ALIEN III
screenplay by D.T. Twohy
FIRST DRAFT
October 1989
- - -
FADE IN:
1 EXT. METEOROID SWARM - DEEP SPACE
Meteoroids drift through space, silent and peaceful. Suddenly a shark
in their midst: Attacking from behind, a ship collects smaller
meteoroids in a jawlike scoop, swallowing them whole.
2 INT. MINING SHIP
Inside, rotating teeth smash the meteors into rubble. Hoppers fill.
Lasers scan the rubble for composition before conveyors trundle it
away. The factory is crudely efficient, PREHISTORICALLY LOUD. Until...
The teeth stop rotating...
Conveyors seize up...
Lasers die...
3 EXT. MINING SHIP
And the jawlike scoop, hinged, begins closing.
4 INT. MINING SHIP
With the LOUDEST CLANG EVER HEARD, the jaws clamp shut.
ECHOES through empty corridors. Only then the ship is hauntingly quiet
do we hear the first signs of human life: FOOTSTEPS.
Greasy and agitated, the PROSPECTOR appears. He doesn't know why the
machines have stopped, but he does know what's responsible. He stalks
to a door...
5 INT. OPERATIONS - MINING SHIP
...and flat-hands it open.
PROSPECTOR
So what the hell is it now?
Terminals flash the same message:
AUTOMATIC SHUTDOWN P/24/97.
POSSIBLE XENOMORPH DETECTION, HOPPER 6.
PROSPECTOR
"Xenomorph," huh?
(stabbing reset button)
Crush it.
But the machinery won't reactivate. Screens continue to flash the
message. The prospector storms out.
6 INT. HOPPER - MINING SHIP
In the shadowy depths of a hopper, the prospector uses a lever to
search through meteoroid rubble. Some of the rock is a vitreous,
golden-hued. Amber.
PROSPECTOR
These fuckin' fossil-hunts...
Then he spots it. Mostly buried in rubble. What little we can see
reminds us of a tail. A dark, coiled tail.
Scowling, the prospector reaches down. Pokes it. Feels it. Lifts it up
to reveal...
A piece of flexible conduit.
PROSPECTOR
(peering at ceiling)
Fallin' apart. Whole ship's comin'
apart at the welds.
He searches on. Finally he abandons his lever for a chunk of amber. He
hoists it up, trying for better light. We can't tell for sure -- but
it looks like something is suspended inside the rock.
7 INT. OPERATIONS - MINING SHIP
PROSPECTOR
(to comm-panel)
...Company Mining Ship WYM/263,
Sector 118-M, Quad 4, working the
Borealis Claim. Filing report as
required by section...section...
He thumbs through a greasy manual but can't find the right reference.
He flings it aside.
PROSPECTOR (CONT'D)
"Xenomorph" specimen detected and
recovered. Currently suspended in
organic resin-polymer compound,
a.k.a. "amber," little or no
fossilization. It you want it, come
get it.
He slaps a switch. "MESSAGE DISPATCHED" appears on the terminal, then
"SHUTDOWN CANCELLED." All around, we hear the great MACHINERY POUNDING
back to life.
The prospector swivels to face the chunk of rock. Now backlit, we see
that inside -- suspended in a coffin of golden glass -- is a face-
hugger. A protean Alien.
PROSPECTOR
So tell me. Why would such a big
company like this be interested in
such a little shit like you? Huh?
He taps the rock. No movement inside. He draws closer, trying to
discern more detail. And just when we expect the face-hugger to
shatter out and grab the prospector's face...
Something grabs his shoulder.
ASSISTANT
What's goin' on?
PROSPECTOR
(shaking off hand)
Same ol' ratshit. Go back to sleep.
Your shift don't start for three
hours yet.
8 EXT. MINING SHIP - METEOROID FIELD
The jaws reopen. As it returns to chasing meteoroids, the ship passes
close to VIEW. We get a good look at the corporate logo of "Weylan-
Yutani" before we...
FADE OUT
"THREE YEARS LATER"
FADE IN:
9 EXT. EARTH - PRE-DAWN
Dark Earth. The lights of a rampant civilization craze the landmasses.
Soon an orbit-to-orbit transport appears. It angles toward a glowing
horizon.
10 INT. CABIN - TRANSPORT SHIP
Passengers sit in the dim interior, portholes their only luxury. Some
peer out to see...
11 EXT. SPACE STATION - PRE-DAWN
Something huge ahead. Whatever it is, it blots out the starfield
behind it.
12 INT. CABIN - TRANSPORT SHIP
More passengers strain to see.
13 EXT. SPACE STATION - DAWN
Now the sun rises behind Earth, illuminating the rind of atmosphere
and then...
The space station. Iron black, spired, cathedralesque, designed by
Eiffel and then hand-sculpted by Rodin. It looms in geosynchronous
orbit 23,000 miles above Earth -- a smirch of Hell right where Heaven
should be.
14 INT. CABIN - TRANSPORT SHIP
Reaction passengers: They've never seen it this close. Nor did they
want to.
15 EXT. SPACE STATION - DAWN
The transport reaches a blockade of red-flashing buoys.
16 INT. COCKPIT - TRANSPORT SHIP
PILOT #1
(into headset)
Moloch Island, this is MDT/67 out of
Gateway Station. Bearing 1-2-Fiver
on equatorial approach. Requesting
clearance to dock.
PILOT #1 waits, eyeing the station through her canopy. The central
spire spews burned gas into space.
PILOT #1
Again, this is MDT/67 out of
Gateway. Still awaiting docking
clearance.
17 EXT. SPACE - STATION - DAWN
As if to answer, the buoys turn a provisional yellow. Positioning
rockets fire. The buoys rearrange to form a landing corridor.
18 INT. COCKPIT - TRANSPORT SHIP
As the pilot gooses her throttle.
19 INT. MAIN CABIN - TRANSPORT SHIP
As yellow buoys drift past portholes.
20 EXT. DOCKING PORT - SPACE STATION - DAWN
As the transport slews into a broadside approach.
21 INT. MAIN CABIN - TRANSPORT SHIP
CLANGS and WHINES of docking. At the front of the cabin, an ICC
MARSHALL rises, brandishing a weapon.
MARSHALL
Everybody up.
The passengers CLATTER to their feet. Only now do we see their chains.
22 INT. ADMISSION AREA
CLOSE on a hand pressing down on a scan-plate. U.V. light passes
beneath the hand.
SCAN VOICE
Russo, Susan Lee. F23837. Murder,
Second Degree. 20-Year sentence.
The hand turns over. The wrist area has been branded with an I.D.
number. A pigment burn.
CAPTAIN (O.S.)
Maintenance duty.
WIDER. We're inside the station. The first five prisoners are hooked
together and led away. The next prisoner in line shuffles forward to
place his hand on the scanner.
SCAN VOICE
Van Brunt, Carl Henrik. M23838.
Manslaughter, 49 counts. 49-year
sentence.
VAN BRUNT. Scandinavian. Forty. He moves aside for the next prisoner.
SCAN VOICE
Kiryu, Cheryl. F23839. Possession of
Firebomb, Incitement to Riot,
Corporate Terrorism. Life sentence,
no possibility of parole.
KIRYU. Amerasian. Thirty. Next prisoner up.
SCAN VOICE
Grimes, Howard Stumbo. M23840.
Bigamy, Spousal Rape, Rape with
Foreign Object, Attempted Murder.
Aggregate 32-year sentence.
Piqued, the guard CAPTAIN looks up from his terminal. GRIMES gives him
a shit-for-brains grin.
CAPTAIN
What was the foreign object?
GRIMES
My dick. It's so big, they didn't
believe it was real.
Block guards jerk him away.
GRIMES
Hey, it's true. They booked me two
seats just to get up here.
SCAN VOICE
Domingo, Gustava Gomez Jesus
Incantada.
Prisoners lean out of line to look at DOMINGO. Latin. Tenty years old.
Wears his anger like a coat.
SCAN VOICE (CONT'D)
M23841. Murder, First Degree, four
counts. Death sentence on each
count.
Prisoners APPLAUD the big deal of the day. Domingo wants to piss on
them all. Now STYLES moves up. He's about to put his hand on the
scanner when...
CAPTAIN
Styles, Scott Taylor. Fraud, 10-year
sentence. Additional five years for
escape, Terre Haute. Additional
eight years for escape, Terminal
Island.
(looking up)
You know, son, I just get the
feeling you're gonna give us snags.
STYLES
Oh, no sir. I've learned my lesson.
Well, "lessons."
CAPTAIN
Foundry.
Guards chain the five inmates together.
CAPTAIN
Oh, and Daggs?
(indicating Styles)
Full shackles outside the block.
Line of sight at all times.
Nodding, the guard named DAGGS turns his eyes on Styles. Styles looks
back resignedly. "Gonna be one of those years."
23 INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE FOUNDRY
Caged elevator cars transport personnel between levels, comparable
"equavator" cars transport them laterally along curved corridors. Now
in coveralls, the five new inmates appear. BLOCK GUARD leads. Daggs
shadows.
BLOCK GUARD
...touch a guard, you get stitched.
Fail to respond promptly to a
guard's order, any guard -- block,
solitary, special services -- you
get stitched. Pilfer supplies, you
get stitched...
GRIMES
(to Styles)
"Stitched"?
STYLES
Don't ask.
GRIMES
(to Daggs)
What's "stitched"?
A wicked CHITTERING SOUND: Grimes ducks as the wall beside him
explodes with crisscrossing lines. When the sound stops, hundreds of
small-bore needles have embedded the wall.
BLOCK GUARD
(recycling stitch rifle)
Any other questions?
None. The guard moves to a massive steel door and slaps an open-relay.
BLOCK GUARD
Then let's get busy.
So far, the station has impressed us as sterile and efficient. But
when the overhead DOOR RUMBLES open, we see...
Blasting furnaces. Rippling heat. Rising steam. This is the central
spire, where space-mined ore is processed into steel. The NOISE is
like a hundred train wrecks, and if Hell had nightmares, this would
surely be one.
24 INT. FOUNDRY
Prisoners everywhere, stoking furnaces, lifting rock, oiling
conveyors, channeling rivers of glowing metal.
ROAMING, the VIEW FINDS Styles and Van Brunt. They rake limestone over
screens, sifting out impurities. The dust gets in their eyes, nose,
mouths. Between coughs:
VAN BRUNT
...G-class freighter. Made fueling
runs between the M-class tankers and
smaller ships.
STYLES
Pilot?
VAN BRUNT
Helmsman. Or I was, until a docking
went bad. Came in hot. Took out the
better part of two ships. 49 dead.
STYLES
Never make pilot that way. Wasn't
equipment failure?
VAN BRUNT
Hard to say. So drunk at the time,
don't remember much.
STYLES
Forty-nine years...
VAN BRUNT
You? Twenty years or something?
VOICE
It's all the same.
They look. The voice came from a prisoner raking with his back to
VIEW.
VAN BRUNT
Say something?
The prisoner turns -- and startles us. His skin, his hair, even his
eyes have turned an IVORY white from years of working the limestone.
IVORY
All sentences are the same. All.
25 INT. MACHINE SHOP - FOUNDRY
A glassed-off machine shop. Pipe, wire, small castings are being made.
Workers are stacking a pallet with heavy pipe -- and stacking it too
high. The first pipe falls, starting an avalanche that CLATTERS
toward...
Kiryu. She sees it coming but freezes up. At the last second, hands
jerk her away.
The pipes smash to a stop.
It's Domingo. He probably just saved Kiryu's life -- but without
thanking him, she pulls free and goes back to work.
26 INT. FOUNDRY
A white-hot ingot, circular and massive, is dropped into a quenching
tank. Steam blasts upward, drawing the attention of...
Grimes. He works near the blast furnaces, shoveling up warm slag like
a stable boy mucking stalls.
The cooled ingot is craned out of the quenching tank and dropped in
top-loading centrifuge. Airlock doors close. The centrifuge begins to
rotate.
Grimes follows other workers to observation windows that overlook
Earth.
27 EXT. BOTTOM OF SPACE STATION - DAY
Building speed, the centrifuge lowers from the station.
28 INT. FOUNDRY
A DETONATION rocks the foundry as...
29 EXT. BOTTOM OF SPACE STATION - DAY
The ingot is discharged. Twenty tons of spinning steel streaks toward
Earth.
30 INT. FOUNDRY
GRIMES
Holy... Where's it gonna hit?
WORKER
South China Sea. Ship picks it up.
Right angle, they only lose about 15
percent in the atmosphere.
Workers disperse. Grimes loiters, watching the ingot vanish.
GRIMES
Love to scream one of those fuckers
down on the ex-wife's apartment...
The barrel of a stitch rifle flicks his ear. The guard motions Grimes
back to work.
31 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT
Burned gasses continue to belch from the central spire, blackening a
full moon.
32 INT. FOUNDRY
CLOSE on a small machine spitting out coins. They're crude and dark,
made of slag. But the logo is familiar. "Weylan-Yutani."
End-of-shift prisoners shuffle forward in line like the living dead,
faces blackened and haggard. Guards pay the workers with newly minted
coins. Styles is getting patted down by Daggs when...
AMPLIFIED VOICE
Prisoner M22197. Step out. Prisoner
M22197. Step out.
Prisoners look. No one steps forward.
AMPLIFIED VOICE
Second chance. Prisoner M22197. Step
out. Prisoner M221--
Suddenly one man bolts, running blindly.
Guards level tangle guns, stubby and twin-barrelled. MULTIPLE
DISCHARGES.
Bolo balls sling through the air...
And catch the man, orbiting him, cocooning him in steel filament. He
crashes to the floor ten steps from where he started his run. The
prisoner is Ivory.
STYLES
What's he volunteering for?
DAGGS
Been here a long time. Could be his
appeals finally crapped out. Funny
how they run like that.
(for Styles' sake)
Like someone could actually get off
this rock, huh?
33 INT. SECURITY CORRIDOR
Again chained together, the five new inmates drag-ass along a
corridor. They carry bedrolls. The block guard keys open a security
door and ushers them into...
34 INT. GUARD HOUSE
A circular control room. The walls are solid glass -- but, oddly, they
look out on nothing but solid wall.
BLOCK GUARD
Goin' my way?
CONTROL GUARD
(running switches)
Down it is.
The guard house begins dropping -- and now the windows fill with the
rising cell block. It's a staggering sight: We're in the middle of an
immense cylinder, cells ringing the perimeter, inmates roaming like
lost animals. Tier after tier rise past the windowed walls -- and it's
all the same.
DOMINGO
Fuckin' Mother of God...
Finally the guard house stops. Security door opens. The block guard
unchains the inmates -- then backs off. This is as far as he goes.
STYLES
Which cell?
BLOCK GUARD
Any one you can find.
35 INT. MIDDLE TIER - CELL BLOCK
The new inmates step onto a walkway. The door locks behind them. Kiryu
peers down the foot-wide crack between walkway and guard house.
HER POV: The bottom of the cell block lost in shadow. How many more
tiers can there be?
GRIMES
I think there's been a mistake.
VAN BRUNT
What, you're not really guilty?
GRIMES
Oh, I'm guilty. Just not this
guilty.
The new inmates push ahead.
THEIR POV: An inmate brushing his teeth in a toilet. Graffiti-scarred
walls. A gang of females rousting a male inmate. A jogger using the
circular walkway for a lap track. At least three inmates per cell. No
open bunks.
Two JOY BOYS in codpieces pass. They touch Domingo seductively. He
bats their hands away. They laugh and blow kisses.
THEIR POV: Blacks in shower caps playing dominoes. Inmates with bio-
electric tattoos. A narcotized guy trying to peel the walls. A man and
woman pulling a stand-up fuck. Inmates watching baseball on a caged
monitor.
ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
...so far this year, the Yanks are
13 and 12, three of those victories
big ones coming on the road against
Tokyo, Nagoya, and Osaka. And
Tuesday night's game with the
Hitachi Indians looms as a pivotal
one...
New inmates Stop. They've circled the entire tier and haven't found an
open cell.
VOICE
No luck, huh?
They look. The voice belongs to BELLHOP, an ingratiating maggot of a
man.
BELLHOP
Vacancies are hard to come by in
this hotel.
STYLES
But I bet you know where some are.
BELLHOP
Several. Happy to take you there.
For two slags.
DOMINGO
Hey. Dickwipe. Fuck you, awright? I
just spent maybe twelve hours
cuttin' hot pipe, and for that they
pay me five coins. Now you want two?
Fuck you dead, man. From both ends.
But Styles flips Bellhop a coin.
STYLES
Show us.
(to Domingo)
My throw.
36 INT. STAIRCASES - CELL BLOCK
Zig-zagging, Bellhop leads the new inmates down through the cell
block. They pass tier after tier.
BELLHOP
...little Wild Eye, Hash Mash,
smokes with six percent real tobacco
-- you just let me know. Watch this
step here, bit loose. Comin' up on
lockdown -- I strongly urge that you
not be caught outside your cell.
Right this way, not much further
now...
GRIMES
Much lower, man, we're gonna drop
out the ass-end of this thing.
37 INT. BOTTOM TIER - CELL BLOCK
They reach the bottom. This is it. Dungeon-level.
BELLHOP
And here we are. First Floor.
New inmates look around. Several cells are free.
DOMINGO
So what the shit's wrong with it?
BELLHOP
Pardon?
DOMINGO
How come rest ot the place is full,
but this isn't? How come?
BELLHOP
Well, it's closer to the gravity
generators, so you're a couple
pounds heavier, little more
sluggish. And the light isn't what
it should be.
That's all. They inspect the cells. Bunks have springs. Grimes kick-
starts a toilet. It actually flushes.
STYLES
(to Bellhop)
That's all, huh?
BELLHOP
They're nice rooms. Really. Can't do
better than these.
Styles flips him the second coin. Not wasting any time, Bellhop heads
back to the stairs.
DOMINGO
Rats. Got big fuckin' rats down
here, doncha?
BELLHOP
(oddly)
Oh, no. You'll have no problems with
rats.
He's gone. Styles and Van Brunt settle into the first cell. Grimes
takes the second, Domingo the third. Kiryu is left to choose between
bunking with the rapist Grimes or killer Domingo. She chooses Domingo.
GRIMES
Thanks, cunt.
38 INT. STYLES' CELL
Styles is taking a sink-bath, trying to wash away the limestone and
the whole day. PIPES KNOCK, and the faucet sputters dry. He wasn't
close to finishing.
39 INT. BOTTOM TIER - CELL BLOCK
Air-drying, Styles walks the tier with Van Brunt. Other inmates here
seem to be the runts and whack-outs of the prison:
The HIKER, a paraplegic who walks only with the aid of a motorized
backpack that "walks" his legs for him...
A man thin enough to be a human X-RAY...
The GASHER, a self-mutilating woman who notches her skin with a
shank...
STYLES
Quite a neighborhood.
And the ABORIGINE, a dreadlocker who paints his cell wall with
primitive drawings. The drawings seem to be of an animal. But before
Styles can get a closer look...
BLOCK VOICE
Lockdown. 30 seconds to lockdown.
40 INT. CELL BLOCK
SELECTED SHOTS of inmates grabbing belongings and moving for stairs
and cells.
BLOCK VOICE
Lockdown. 20 seconds to lockdown.
41 INT. STYLES' CELL
BLOCK VOICE
Lockdown. 10 seconds to lockdown.
Styles and Van Brunt crab-step inside just as the door closes. Around
the cell block, we hear DOORS THUNDERING SHUT.
BLOCK VOICE
Lockdown complete.
42 INT. CELL BLOCK
A WHISTLE sounds. Entry doors open, and unleashed guard dogs stream
into the block. Searching tor loose inmates, the dogs race around the
tiers...
...zig-zag down stairs...
...flood the lower tiers...
43 INT. GRIMES' CELL
...and appear here. One dog stops at Grimes' cell. It almost looks
friendly.
GRIMES
Hey, dog.
It lunges, slamming into the bars and nearly taking out Grimes'
throat.
GRIMES
Shit. Lassie get the fuck home, huh?
Get the hell outta here.
44 INT. CELL BLOCK
Circling like a glass carousel, the guard house rises, pushed upward
by one massive steel piston. Soon it vanishes, embedded in the
ceiling.
45 INT. CELL BLOCK
As all lights extinguish.
46 INT. DOMINGO'S CELL
Later. Domingo wakes. The bunk is rocking. "What the hell?" Small
MOANS and GASPS from beneath him -- from Kiryu. Domingo grins, taking
the sounds for autoerotic. Figuring he can be of assistance, he eases
off his bunk.
And finds sharp metal thrust under his chin.
Kiryu holds a bed strut, worked free of the bunk. That's what she
was doing.
DOMINGO
Just thought maybe you was --
KIRYU
I know what you were thinking. Now
get away before I bury this in your
worthless pygmy brain.
He backs off -- then snatches the shank away.
For a beat Domingo just stares, and the only question is whether he'll
rape her before or after he cuts open her throat. But then Domingo
eases back onto his bunk and lies down.
47 INT. STYLES' CELL
Glow-worms dot the ceiling like stars. One falls...
...and lands on Styles. He brushes it away and tries to get back to
sleep but can't: The night sounds of the prison -- SOBBING, FLUSHING
TOILETS, BARKING DOGS -- fill his ears. He rolls away from VIEW.
But a new SOUND rolls him back. This doesn't come from above like the
other sounds. This seems to come from...
The tier walkway. Empty. Quiet.
Styles is at the bars, looking out. Was it just the dog? Hearing
nothing now, he starts back to his bunk. But the SOUND returns.
STYLES' POV: Through the walkway grating, we see the machinery level
below, a jungle of conduit and hydraulics. It's from there that the
SLIDING-CLAWING sound comes.
Styles tracks the sound with his eyes. It passes under the walkway...
moves toward his cell...and stops dead under his feet. Now something
SCRATCHES, as if trying to penetrate the solid floor. For a small
eternity, Styles doesn't move. Then the sound SLIDE-CLAWS away.
Breathing again, Styles looks out the bars to see...
Someone watching him from another cell. It's the X-Ray man.
48 EXT. SPACE STATION - DAWN
Sunrise.
49 INT. SOLITARY WARD
A single-cell door is opened. From inside the dark room, a lonely
white face looks out.
50 INT. GAS CHAMBER
Guards shove Ivory into a primitive throne-like chair. Pull straps.
Cinch buckles. Through a window Ivory can see...
The faces of the witnesses.
51 INT. CELL BLOCK
A pitiless light floods the block. It's met with a CHORUS OF GROANS.
52 INT. GRIMES' CELL
GRIMES
(waking thickly)
Ten minutes. They turned off the
lights ten minutes ago...
53 INT. STYLES' CELL
Styles and Van Brunt rise.
VAN BRUNT
Stiff every place but where it
counts.
54 INT. DOMINGO'S CELL
Kiryu dresses. Domingo stays in his bunk.
DOMINGO
Fuck them. I ain't goin' back to
that psycho shitpile. What're they
gonna do? Not pay me? Huh? Fuck 'em.
Fuck 'em dead.
A caged monitor flickers to life. On the screen we see Ivory, strapped
down in the chair.
55 INT. CELL BLOCK
As the image appears on screens everywhere.
56 INT. STYLES' CELL
As Styles moves closer to a monitor, recognizing the man.
57 INT. GAS CHAMBER
As a black hood is dragged over Ivory's head.
58 INT. OUTSIDE GAS CHAMBER
As guards double-check machinery.
59 INT. CELL BLOCK
As the entire block grows quiet, watching.
60 INT. SECURITY CORRIDOR
The female WARDEN appears with captain of the guards, striding quickly
toward the chamber. She pushes through a door...
61 INT. WITNESS ROOM
...and takes her place at the viewing glass. She barely glances at the
hooded inmate before nodding approval O.S. We get the feeling she's
done this before.
62 INT. OUTSIDE GAS CHAMBER
Where a lever is pulled.
63 INT. GAS CHAMBER
CLOSE on a bag of crystals dropping into an acid bath beneath the
chair. Gas roils upward...
Enveloping Ivory. We know what's happening under the hood: He's
holding his breath. Squirming. Working the good air up and down his
throat, trying to make it last.
64 INT. WITNESS ROOM
As the warden drums her fingers.
65 INT. CELL BLOCK
As the new inmates watch.
66 INT. GAS CHAMBER
Finally Ivory inhales. Screams as the gas burns his throat. Goes into
hypoxiac spasms. And dies quickly but badly.
67 INT. DOMINGO'S CELL
Domingo stares open-mouthed as the monitor flickers out. SCATTERED
APPLAUSE from some sick fucks around the block. From the next cell:
GRIMES
Uh, just out of curiosity, Domingo
...how many appeals you got left?
Domingo jumps off the bunk, grabs his pants.
DOMINGO
What're we doin'? Let's go, let's
go. Hey, open these fuckin' doors,
huh? Let's get busy.
68 INT. BUNKER
CLOSE on Ivory's hooded head, unmoving and lifeless. Suddenly he
draws a jagged breath.
He rips off the hood. Though his mind is still dying in the gas
chamber, his body, he now discovers, is somewhere else.
"Where's the window? The faces?"
He finds himself in a chair -- this one without straps. He's inside
what appears to be a small outpost bunker. No windows. Inactive
monitors. Pre-form construction.
"I'm dead, I'm dead, I gotta be dead..."
He stands experimentally. Moves. Runs a hand over equipment. A monitor
activates. It shows an external view: The outside terrain is rocky and
windswept.
"What planet is this? And how the hell did I get here?"
He finds cots for other personnel -- but there are no others. Just
him.
Movement on the monitor. Did he just imagine it? He stares until it
happens again: Something slides past the exterior camera, momentarily
filling the frame with darkness. Skeletal darkness.
A SCRATCHING SOUND turns Ivory. He tracks the sound to a seam in the
wall panels. He touches the spot -- and can feel the thing outside,
the thing barely an inch away, the thing that explores the seam with
him.
WHUMP. Ivory stumble-steps back. WHUMP. The seam cracks. WHUMP.
Ivory looks around for a weapon, shield, anything. WHUMP. The Alien
is inside.
69 INT. BUNKER MOCK-UP FACILITY - P-4 LAB
Now we see the bunker from the outside -- and see the backdrops, the
wind machines, the halt-environment. It's all fake. All but the
SCREAMING.
70 INT. CONTROL ROOM - P-4 LAB
CLOSE on a monitor. We're watching images from a hidden camera --
jumpy, hard-to-track images of Ivory's death. By whipping tail. By
rending arms. By striking jaws. Just who watches these images and
where they're being seen -- none of it matters yet. All we know is
that this one prisoner has now died twice.
71 EXT. SPACE STATION - DAY
As a steel ingot is blasted toward Earth.
72 INT. FOUNDRY
Feeding time: The new inmates file past a portable mess station,
taking food. A thick, nutrient-stuffed sausage is plopped down on
Grimes' plate.
GRIMES
Now we know why the crappers weren't
clogged up.
DOMINGO
I gotta question. When we die, do we
come right back here?
KIRYU
We're already dead. Just don't know
it yet.
VAN BRUNT
She walks, she talks.
GRIMES
But will she do our cocks?
DOMINGO
Hey, toadshit. You gotta say the
first thing that comes to your
mouth?
Leaving them behind, Styles looks for a place to sit. He spots...
X-Ray. The man sits alone on the floor, sipping water. There's a tray
of food beside him. Untouched.
STYLES
So how'd you sleep last night?
X-RAY
Same as every night.
STYLES
Lousy? Or not at all?
No reaction. Styles sits.
STYLES
Heard some craziness last night. You
hear any craziness?
X-RAY
You're strong. You should move up. I
tried, once, but they hit me and
made me go back to the bottom.
(indicating tray)
You want it?
STYLES
Looks like you need it more.
X-RAY
Water. That's all for me. Water's
the only way.
STYLES
You don't eat? At all?...
X-RAY
Can't. I can but I can't.
STYLES
You'll starve if you don't eat. Do
you know this?
X-RAY
But I'll die if I do.
KLAXON HORN recall prisoners. With doubts about X-Ray's sanity, Styles
tries one more time.
STYLES
What're you saying? Something's
wrong with the food?
X-RAY
(conspiratorially)
It won't take me. Next time it
comes, won't want me. Too thin.
It'll take someone else.
Styles ponders it. Until he gets kicked in the back.
DAGGS
Feedin' time's over.
73 EXT. SPACE STATION - DAY
A company mining ship is docked at the central spire, off-loading
cargo.
74 INT. FOUNDRY
Docking officers patrol a platform near the top of the foundry. The
mining ship is visible through a viewport. Personel move in and out
via an airlock. Beneath the platform, raw ore spills down chutes...
...drops through SUB-CRUSHERS...
...then gets hauled across conveyored ore-bridges to be dumped into
stockpiles.
Styles is among the prisoners who work the bridges, shoveling spilled
rock off the catwalks and back onto conveyors. The ore seems endless,
and more and more of it falls onto the prisoners' feet. It aggravates
Styles but he figures someone will slow it down.
No one does. Soon the ore is spilling off the catwalks and hailing
down on the main floor. Workers take cover.
At the end or the bridge, ore swamps the catwalk. It forms a moving
rampart that pushes one frantic worker off the edge...
...and into the stockpile. SHOUTED VOICES. In moments he'll be buried
alive.
Fed up with the madness, Styles rears back and buries his shovel deep
into the conveyor system.
Bridges stop. Crushers die. Chutes go empty.
CLOSEUPS of guards turning to look.
Though he only meant to stop the one bridge, Styles has managed to
shut down the entire off-load. The foundry is quieter than we thought
possible. Suddenly someone is marching toward Styles. It's a guard, a
MASTODON of a man. The catwalk rocks under his weight.
STYLES
Too much ore...it was coming too
fast...had to do something before --
Hands grab him by the head and jerk him off his feet.
MASTODON
No one. Hear me? No one shuts down
the foundry.
He slams Styles back -- right into a stanchion bracket. Styles just
hangs there, impaled, graying out into unconsciousness.
75 INT. TELESURGERY BERTH - INFIRMARY
CLOSE on a surgical instrument, plunking into a pan of disinfectant
and spreading blood. VIEW MOVES past a tray or fresh instruments...
surgical draping...to equipment that monitors vital signs.
SURGEON'S VOICE
Lung's holding air.
WOMAN'S VOICE
Muscle reweave looks good, too.
Bio-readouts change.
WOMAN'S VOICE
He's coming around. You want more
NumbOut?
SURGEON'S VOICE
That's okay. Almost done here.
The patient is Styles, blinking awake. His mind gathers speed.
STYLES
How bad?
SURGEON'S VOICE
Hmm? Oh, we've seen a lot worse.
Aren't feeling this, are you?
STYLES
Huh-uh. Not a thing. Must be doin' a
pretty good job of...
Styles lifts his head to look at the surgeon -- and sees twin robotic
arms. They're doing the surgery. He lurches up. Human hands shove him
down.
WOMAN'S VOICE
Try that again, and we'll start all
over -- without the anesthetic.
Now we see the ITV (interactive television) system. One screen shows
the Earth-based surgeon, who wears a camera-helmet and electronic
gloves. His surgical moves are being mimicked here by the robotic
arms.
STYLES
Oh, for shit's sake...
On the ITV screen, we see the surgeon picking up closure clamps...
And then we see the robotic hands using identical clamps to close the
incision.
SURGEON
Closed...
On the ITV screen, the surgeon selects an aerosol canister...
And then the robot sprays the surgical site with quick-dry fluid.
Clamps are removed. The incision holds perfectly.
SURGEON (CONT'D)
...and sutured.
The surgeon ungloves. The robotic arms go limp.
SURGEON
Gotta run, Packard -- they're
waiting for me on the front nine.
Credit my account?
WOMAN'S VOICE
Done.
The woman's voice belongs to PACKARD. She strips away surgical
draping, tosses Styles fresh coveralls, scribbles on a clipboard.
Styles doesn't move.
PACKARD
We don't give lollipops.
STYLES
Maybe I should just lie here. Couple
hours.
PACKARD
Isn't necessary. That aerosol skin
holds better than scar tissue.
(over shoulder)
Guard?
STYLES
Hey, doc. Feel like I been chewed up
by a wolf and shit over a cliff,
okay? Little slack might be in
order.
PACKARD
One: I'm a diagnostic physiologist,
not a "doc." We don't have "docs"
here. They wouldn't be caught dead
in a place like this even if the
money was decent, which it isn't.
Two: I can't afford the time or
space.
She throws back curtains to reveal the infirmary. Daggs can be seen
bird-dogging one of the female med-techs.
PACKARD
Guard? Got a throw-back. Writing it
up now.
DAGGS
(staying put)
Comin'.
Packard leaves FRAME. HOLD on Styles easing to his feet and dressing,
using the time to check out the infirmary. It's cramped and crowded,
the med-techs over-worked and underpaid. But to Styles, it looks like
Nirvana.
Now he assesses Packard, spotting her inside a glass office. Not as
old as he first thought. Not as tough as she thinks. And not at all
hard on the eyes.
76 INT. PACKARD'S OFFICE - INFIRMARY
Packard sorts through a blizzard of paper-work, searching for...
PACKARD
Transfer forms...
STYLES
Mean these?
He's in the office, holding the forms. Packard gives him a wary look,
then accepts the forms without comment. Now she pats around for a pen.
Styles finds one behind her ear. Another look. Going with the
charming-bastard approach:
STYLES
I know what you're thinking. "How
did I ever get along without this
guy?"
PACKARD
Try again.
STYLES
"This guy could be a big help around
here. I should get him reassigned."
PACKARD
What's the scam here? Just tell me
up front, and we'll both save time.
STYLES
No scam. Just occurred to me out
there that you could use another
grunt and I could use another job.
PACKARD
We used to use prisoners. They stole
everything but the ceiling.
STYLES
Gimme a throw. I'm a handy guy.
PACKARD
That's the problem.
Daggs enters. He gives Styles a world-class scowl.
DAGGS
She tell you to come in here?
STYLES
(to Packard)
Last chance to dance.
Packard gives him a final appraisal. Then to Daggs:
PACKARD
Get this asshole out of here.
77 INT. INFIRMARY
Leg-irons clamp around ankles. TILT UP as Daggs, finished chaining
Styles, pulls him toward the door. A CRASH turns them back.
MED-TECH #1 dropped a rack of vials. He starts to clean up the mess,
but someone lifts him to his feet. Packard.
MED-TECH #1
Sorry. Just slipped.
She checks his eyes. His pupils look like olives.
PACKARD
You're gone.
MED-TECH #1
Whaddya mean?
PACKARD
Transferred. Hydroponics, custodial,
anywhere but here.
Daggs heads for the door. It's not their problem.
MED-TECH #1
Hey, look, it was just an accident,
okay. Coulda happened to --
PACKARD
You're glassed out. You been in the
drugs. Christ, I don't believe you
people. You're no better than the...
(a new thought)
Guard.
Daggs turns.
PACKARD
Unhook him. I'll put him to work
here.
DAGGS
Who? Him?
He swaps looks with Styles. They're equally surprised.
DAGGS
Don't think the captain's gonna go
for it. This guy's --
PACKARD
I'll square it with the captain. You
just unhook him.
(to med-tech)
At least I know I can't trust the
prisoners.
She moves to Styles.
PACKARD
All right, you want a new job? You
got one.
78 INT. INFIRMARY
At a work-station, Styles is doing a biopsy on a dark pasty substance.
He views it under a magnifier.
STYLES' POV: of a wormlike parasite.
On a chart, Styles checks "positive" under the heading "Kennel B, Dog
#12." With a resigned sigh, he disposes of the first stool sample and
unwraps another.
MED-TECH #2 (O.S.)
Hey, hey, lookit here...
Styles turns. Med-tech #2 is at a monitor, which shows an external
view of the station. A ship is at the docking port.
MED-TECH #2
Water tanker's in.
MED-TECH #3
'Bout time.
REED (O.S.)
Showers on me, bartender. All the
way around.
Carrying a sealed package, REED enters. He's young, bookishly
handsome, fancies himself a cocksmith.
PACKARD
(eyeing package)
For me?
REED
Hand-delivered, please note.
Packard opens the package. Medicine.
REED
Pullin' a late one tonight?
PACKARD
Out of here as soon as I inventory
this stuff.
REED
Why not stop by? You can fix us
dinner.
PACKARD
Try Hockmeyer. She's young and
easily impressed. Might even know
how to cook.
REED
Tellin' me you don't know the way to
a man's heart, Packard?
PACKARD
Through his veins, last I looked.
She inventories. Reed wanders the infirmary, checking things out. He
comes to a stop behind Styles.
REED
Are you doing what I think you're
doing?
PACKARD
Ten grams of Indapamide? I ordered
fifty. And where's my Cloxacillin?
REED
Had a problem with the fermentation
tanks.
PACKARD
Tell me something, Reed. Why is it,
if we have an on-site pharmaceutical
lab, that I have to beg for
medicine? I mean, just out of idle
curiosity.
REED
(to Styles)
Least she's beggin' for something.
He slaps Styles on the back -- right on the surgical site.
REED
Make it up to you next week,
Packard. One way or another.
He leaves. Packard shakes her head.
PACKARD
This place...
79 INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE P-4 LAB
Back in chains, Styles is being transported by Daggs. Packard walks in
the same direction, scanning paperwork.
STYLES
So how'd you wind up with this job?
If you're not a doctor?
PACKARD
I applied for sewer superintendent,
but all the openings were taken.
(tired of reading)
How's the back?
STYLES
Okay. 'Til whats-his-nuts showed up.
PACKARD
Reed?
STYLES
Friend of yours?
PACKARD
Biochemist. Brilliant guy, really.
Just kind of a sleaze.
(nodding ahead)
Works in the P-4 lab.
They near the lab. A P-4 technician appears, placing a hand on a wall-
mounted scanner. The door opens. It's the thickness of a bank vault.
STYLES
Serious door.
Passing, Styles slows to get a look inside. Daggs jerks him away like
a dog on a leash.
80 INT. EQUAVATOR STOP - CORRIDOR
PACKARD
I'll file the paperwork. You might
not get paid for the first few days.
But eventually.
An equavator arrives. Packard steps aboard. The caged car begins
drawing away.
STYLES
Hey. Thanks.
She looks back but doesn't answer. In a moment the car is gone.
STYLES
So. Think she likes me?
DAGGS
She wouldn't piss on the best part
of you.
81 INT. CELL BLOCK
In lockdown lighting.
82 INT. ABORIGINE'S CELL
The Aborigine paints his wall in the dark.
83 INT. X-RAY'S CELL
X-Ray finishes a cup of water.
84 INT. HIKER'S CELL
The Hiker removes his motorized backpack for the night.
85 INT. DOMINGO'S CELL
Domingo climbs onto the upper bunk. He tosses a moment, thinking about
the woman below him.
DOMINGO
Hey.
No answer. Domingo leans over the side.
DOMINGO
Hey.
Kiryu looks up.
DOMINGO
Good night.
She gives him a look. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard a
human being say." Domingo gives up and lies back down. A long beat,
and then:
KIRYU
(begrudgingly)
'Night.
86 INT. BOTTOM TIER
The tier dog lies on the walkway, resting but not asleep. Soon its
head lifts, hearing something. It's a faint SCRAPING-CLAWING.
Beneath the walkway grating lies the jungle of conduit. Like a living
shadow, something down there moves.
Hackles rising, the dog turns and skulks up the stairs. It wants no
part of this.
87 INT. HIKER'S CELL
Hiker wakes suddenly -- and doesn't know why. He rolls over to see...
A hole in the cell floor. Pried open at a seam.
Silently, Hiker detaches a metal rod from his backpack. Now he finds a
mirror and leans out of the bunk to angle the mirror over the hole. He
sees...
Inside the hole. There's only blackness.
Hiker slithers off the lower bunk and drags himself closer.
88 INT. MACHINERY LEVEL
The VIEW PEERS UP through the hole as Hiker peers down. And only now
do we see the thing behing him -- the dark coiled mass that clings
spiderlike to a ceiling corner.
89 INT. HIKER'S CELL
A tail whips through the air, noosing around his neck. Hiker gurgles
a scream as the tail rears him back...
And body-slams him into the ceiling.
90 INT. X-RAY'S CELL
Fluids spatter X-Ray's face. He wakes to see in the next cell...
91 INT. HIKER'S CELL
Hiker's body splashing against the ceiling.
92 INT. STYLES' CELL
A CRY. Styles is on his feet, moving to the bars, looking out. Can't
see much in the dark. Just movement. Fast, horrid, lethal.
93 INT. CELL BLOCK
In QUICK PUMMELING SHOTS:
X-Ray screaming.
The Rogue Alien turning. Spotting a new target.
X-Ray realizing he's next.
Hiker being dropped to floor. Boneless.
Rogue Alien smashing into side bars. Over and over. Trying to get at
X-Ray.
Inmates calling for help. Others waking.
Steel piston moving. Guard house dropping. Spotlights sweeping tiers.
Rogue sizing up bars. Then making an OMINOUS CLATTERING SOUND as its
exoskeleton begins moving, plates unhinging, shifting, collapsing.
Rogue reshaping itself -- then, impossibly, passing through the bars.
X-Ray falling silent. Stunned.
The Rogue snapping back into shape, rehinging in one tremendous body-
flex. And now attacking.
Blood dancing on air.
Rogue attacking.
Entrails spilling.
Attacking. Attacking. Attacking.
94 INT. BOTTOM TIER - CELL BLOCK
The guard house finally bottoms out. Spotlights find...
STYLES
Over there! Other side, other side!
Lights whirl around the tier. The cells there are red. And empty. And
quietly dripping.
95 INT. MACHINERY LEVEL
Flashlight beams probe machinery. SHOTS of huge gears. Pistons.
Conduit. And the first sign of blood.
Guards with dogs track the blood through the machinery level, the
bowels of the station. The trail leads to...
A utility shaft. In better light, we see the faces of these Special
Service guards, a.k.a. the Shit Squad. It's a ragged but tough-ass
crew of men and women who will do just about anything for time-and-a-
half.
Their BOSS looks down the shaft. It narrows and turns, hiding its
other end.
BOSS
Right Nut. Get a reading.
RIGHT NUT shoulders to the front, aims an Echo Location Gun (E.L.G.)
down the shaft and pulls the trigger.
96 INT. UTILITY SHAFT
Small sonic grenades DETONATE, blinding us.
97 INT. MACHINERY LEVEL
RIGHT NUT
(reading display)
Clear, Boss.
Guards trade glances. Does that mean it got away? Or does that mean
they have to go down there?
BOSS
Let's get a deeper reading.
98 INT. UTILITY SHAFT
Right Nut climbs down -- and one look at his face tells us he hates
this gig. He reaches the twist where the shaft becomes a tunnel. Beams
his light. Sees nothing. Crawls ahead to reach...
A juncture. Here the tunnel splits into two passages. Right Nut points
the E.L.G. down a passage and FIRES.
CLOSE on the gun's display-screen. We can "see" the sonic grenades
detonate. They show clear tunnel.
Right Nut turns and FIRES down the other passage.
A bogey registers. It's far ahead and moving away. But it's there.
RIGHT NUT
Shit.
He deliberates -- then makes the wisest decision of his young life.
99 INT. MACHINERY LEVEL
RIGHT NUT
Clear, Boss. Nothing down there.
Other guards help him out of the shaft.
BOSS
Awright, someone get a torch. Seal
this thing up tight as a 12-year-
old. Left Nut, pick a dog and kill
it. Then drag it around the cell
block so they all see.
Guards deploy. Boss turns back to Right Nut -- and his face wonders if
the tunnel really was clear.
100 EXT. SPACE STATION - DAY
In hard morning light.
101 INT. BOTTOM TIER - CELL BLOCK
BLOCK VOICE
Doors opening. Stand clear. Doors
opening.
Throughout the block, cell DOORS CLATTER open. The new inmates shuffle
out, glancing furtively at the two cells now curtained off with tarps.
Sounds of RECONSTRUCTION.
Inmates move for the stairwells. Styles slows as he passes the
Aborigine's cell -- and looks at what he tried to see the night
before.
STYLES' POV: The cave drawings. Stylized and crude. But the beast
portrayed is, to Styles' eyes, alien. To our eyes, it is unmistakably
Alien.
STYLES
Some bad craziness here...
102 INT. CORRIDOR
Chained together, lines of inmates are being herded off to work. Daggs
falls in step beside Styles.
STYLES
So what is it?
DAGGS
What's that?
Just a look trom Styles.
DAGGS
Heard it was a rabid dog. Got loose
of the kennel and was living under
the cell block.
STYLES
A dog? That comes through the floor?
That sound right to you, Daggs?
DAGGS
Only know what I hear.
STYLES
But do you believe what you hear?
DAGGS
I believe it's time to shit-can all
these questions.
103 INT. INFIRMARY
Styles at his work-station. Instead of stool samples, he's checking
paperwork. He turns upon hearing...
PACKARD (O.S.)
(to med-tech)
...hook up the Doppler probe to his
pulse points. Oh, and rehydrate some
blood. Four units.
Packard strides in, attending a patient on a gurney. The patient goes
to the telesurgery berth. Packard goes to the terminal in her office.
104 INT. PACKARD'S OFFICE - INFIRMARY
STYLES
(entering)
Been checking these records, these
kennel histories. There's not one
reference to --
PACKARD
Away, Styles.
STYLES
I'm talking about last night.
PACKARD
I don't know about last night.
STYLES
You didn't hear?
PACKARD
What'd I just say?
STYLES
Two inmates died. In the cell clock.
NURSE
Doctor's office.
A downworld NURSE has appeared on the terminal screen.
PACKARD
Packard here, resident D.P. up on
Moloch. I have a patient, multiple
perforations from a stitch rifle,
extensive arterial damage, now being
prepped for telesurgery.
NURSE
I'm sorry, but Dr. Gibson gave me
strict instructions not to --
PACKARD
I'm not listening. She's the
vascular surgeon on call, so find
her and have her on-line in 15
minutes.
Disconnect.
PACKARD
Take it back. Did hear. Something
about a rabid dog.
STYLES
What about the bodies?
PACKARD
What about 'em?
STYLES
Have you seen them?
PACKARD
Why would I? Said they were dead,
didn't you?
STYLES
Just thought...
PACKARD
(annoyed)
This isn't a hospital, Styles. It's
a repair shop. Replace a valve,
patch a leak, check the levels and
get 'em back on-line. It they're
dead, that's that. They get shipped
downworld somewhere.
STYLES
(showing records)
Look. Not one case of rabies in
three years. How's a dog gonna get
it? It's contagious, isn't it? From
bites? So how's one dog gonna get
rabies if none of the others have
it?
PACKARD
Probably from an inmate.
105 INT. INFIRMARY
She exits the office and moves for telesurgery. Styles stays with her.
STYLES
What is it? You afraid to find out?
Or you just don't care?
PACKARD
Nobody is here because they "care."
We're all trying to qualify for a
stress-disability pension and get 40
percent base-salary for life. Him,
her, me, all of us. Get it?
STYLES
(loaded)
Yeah. Guess I do.
PACKARD
It's a Company world, Styles. And
I'm just one citizen.
106 EXT. SPACE STATION - DAY
Buoys flash yellow. Soon the drone ship appears -- a sleek surface-to-
orbit limousine with stubbed wings and needled nose. It shows the
corporate logo of Weylan-Yutani.
107 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR
STATION VOICE
Company drone ship docking...
The captain of the guards is striding quickly for the docking port.
STATION VOICE
Drone ship docked.
CAPTAIN
Shit.
He breaks into a trot.
108 INT. DOCKING PORT
Twin airlocks here, a large one for cargo, a smaller one for
personnel. The captain enters just as the latter is FLOODING WITH AIR.
A door lifts open to reveal...
One man. Amerasian. Flawless business attire. Black-hole eyes that
absorb everything and reflect nothing.
CAPTAIN
Mr. Lone. Warden's in conference,
otherwise she would've been down
here to meet you personally, but she
asked me to make sure you get...
LONE brushes past the captain...
109 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR
...and strikes off on his own. The captain catches up. Nearing a
junction, he tries to steer Lone to the right.
CAPTAIN
Quarters this way, Mr. Lone. I know
how confusing this place can be.
But Lone, knowing precisely where he is, steps aboard an equavator and
departs to the left. The captain SWEARS and hits an intercom.
CAPTAIN
Made a course-correction on us. He's
inbound on Level Ten.
WARDEN (V.O.)
The P-4 lab?
CAPTAIN
Where else?
110 INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE P-4 LAB
CLOSE on Lone's hand, held flat to the doorside scanner. PULL BACK as
the vault-like door opens to admit him.
111 INT. REED'S OFFICE - P-4 LAB
Reed is at his desk, feet up, gene-schematics laid over his face. An
assistant, MOHL, enters nervously.
MOHL
Uh, Mr. Reed...
REED
Don't bother me. I'm having a sexual
fantasy.
MOHL
It's him. Mr. Lone. He's here.
Reed springs to his feet.
112 INT. CONTROL ROOM - P-4 LAB
CLOSE on a monitor. We're watching a video replay, "BREACH TEST 12/C."
The video has been heavily processed with reference markers, time-
frame counters, overlay graphs. But beneath all that lurks an Alien.
It's outside the mock-up bunker, looking for a way in.
REED (O.S.)
Here. 1:37. It finds the seam.
VIDEO VIEW of the Alien clawing at the chink between the bunker's pre-
form panels.
REED (O.S.)
It knows that's the weak point.
VIDEO VIEW of the Alien lunging, ramming the spot.
REED (O.S.)
And now it's making its breach.
VIDEO VIEW cuts to the bunker interior. The Alien is breaking through
to attack Ivory. Just when we think we'll have to see it all over
again, the monitor dies.
REED
Inside at 2:06 -- 29 seconds to
breach standard, non-pressurized
walling. Efficient but crude. It's
not my favorite monoclone.
Nodding agreement, Lone turns to a ceiling-tall chamber, a room within
this room. It's paneled with dark windows.
MR. LONE
On the other hand...
REED
We have this. Mohl?
Mohl lowers the room lights and raises the chamber lamps. And now we
see it:
A synthetic womb floats in a cradle of zero-gravity, fed by umbilicus.
It gives us the creeps just looking at it, but not Lone. He moves
closer. Translucent areas of the womb form glazed windows. Lone
squints, trying to see through. Suddenly the womb spasms.
REED
Just a reaction to the light. We're
trying to slowly brighten its
environment to minimize birth-
trauma, but...
The womb jerks again.
REED
But it really prefers the dark.
(to Mohl)
Photoacoustic.
Mohl brings the chamber lamps down, then activates the photoacoustic
equipment.
REED
(tapping monitor)
Here.
The screen shows a false-colored image of the thing within the womb.
Coiled, knotty-spined, long-headed, we recognize it as Alien. Or
something akin.
REED
Kind ot pretty, hmm?
Clearly, Lone agrees: He taps playfully on the glass of the monitor,
reminding us of a father at the window or a nursery. Seemingly in
response, the colorful life-thing twitches.
MR. LONE
How much longer?
The door opens for the captain and warden. Lone ignores them a moment.
REED
We're tracking cell-sloughage, and
if there's any correlation between
this one and earlier copies...
He looks to Mohl, the human notebook.
MOHL
220 hours of gestation.
REED
Roughly eight days.
MR. LONE
(now including warden)
And the next scheduled execution?
WARDEN
19 days.
MR. LONE
So other than a scheduling problem,
we have no snags?
Nervous eye-flicks between the warden, captain, Reed. "Does he know?"
WARDEN
If Reed says we're on schedule, then
I'd have to agree.
MR. LONE
What of our dog? Our rabid one?
Headaches all the way around. "He knows."
WARDEN
We're, uh, taking care of that
situation.
MR. LONE
It's dead, then?
REED
If it's not yet, it will be soon --
all monoclones are short-lived to
make sure they're sterile. Suicide
gene kicks in after 30 days.
Roughly.
CAPTAIN
In the meantime, it seems to be
localized to the cell block. Which,
obviously, is segregated from the
rest of the station.
MR. LONE
If it is, how did it get there? And
if it did, what's to prevent it from
finding its way back?
Good questions. No answers.
MR. LONE
I don't think it's in the company's
interest to engage in further
denial. We have a decontained
biohazard. Let's deal with it
quickly and smartly...
(to Reed)
Before we all wind up "roughly"
dead.
113 INT. CORRIDOR - ADMINISTRATION LEVEL
On the move:
CAPTAIN
I'll be down in Special Services.
See what Boss can come up with.
Captain splits off. Lone and the warden reach an office, and the
warden hand-scans the door open. Lone enters first...
114 INT. WARDEN'S OFFICE
...and moves behind the desk. It bugs the warden.
MR. LONE
Desk, departure time for next deep-
space transport out of Gateway.
DESK VOICE
22:50 tonight.
MR. LONE
Desk, reserve passage for one.
WARDEN
(thinly veiled)
You're not staying? I was hoping
that you could.
MR. LONE
I can and am. The reservation is
yours.
WARDEN
(realizing)
You can't fire me. I'm on a
perpetual contract.
MR. LONE
True. But you can be reassigned in
cases of gross incompetence. And I
think you've qualified splendidly.
WARDEN
Because some lab worker flushed
something down a drain? Let
something slip out under the door?
For that I'm responsible?
MR. LONE
No. For trying to keep it from me.
(scanning terminal)
I see here there's a position on New
Arcticus that requires an employee
of your standing...
WARDEN
Arcticus? That's twenty months in
hypersleep.
He fixes her with those shark-black eyes.
MR. LONE
But only ten one way.
The warden understands. Understands that Lone doesn't have to make
this a round-trip ticket.
115 INT. PACKARD'S CABIN
The room is spartan, not so much furnished as equipped. Few personal
knick-knacks. VIEW FINDS Packard slumped in a chair, reviewing
paperwork her mind isn't on. Finally she pulls out what she's really
thinking about -- the kennel histories. She pages through. Then dials
a terminal.
DESK VOICE
Warden's desk.
PACKARD
She in?
DESK VOICE
I'm sorry. Warden Wells is on
administrative leave.
PACKARD
For how long?
DESK VOICE
Indefinitely.
PACKARD
And no one told us? I don't believe
this. Who's in charge?
DESK VOICE
Mr. Lone has temporarily taken over
operations.
PACKARD
(halr-recognizing)
Lone?
DESK VOICE
Is there any message?
PACKARD
No. No message.
Disconnect.
PACKARD
This place...
A beat, then she calls up the corporate directory to run a name. The
screen fills with a videograph of Lone. Packard scans the sidebar
information -- and finds the words "Bio-Weapons Division."
116 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT
With the moon as a backdrop.
117 INT. HIKER'S CELL
The tarps are gone. The cell has been patched, painted, repaired. The
only sign of its former occupant is the metal backpack rod that Styles
finds in a corner.
STYLES
Just needs a vacancy sign...
The sink faucet drips. Styles shuts it off. Then with a thought, he
squeaks it back on. WATER RUNS beneath the floor.
BLOCK VOICE
Lockdown. 30 seconds to lockdown.
118 INT. BOTTOM TIER - CELL BLOCK
Tracking the water, Styles exits the cell. The pipes are visible under
the grated walkway. They merge with a larger duct that bores through
the heart of machinery level.
BLOCK VOICE
Lockdown. 20 seconds to lockdown.
Styles kneels and inspects the walkway grating. Some of the joints
look rusted. Vulnerable.
BLOCK VOICE
Lockdown. 10 seconds to lockdown.
VAN BRUNT
(calling from cell)
Styles?
Styles looks up -- and realizes he's on the wrong side of the tier. He
kicks it into high gear...
119 INT. STYLES' CELL
...and enters as the cell door begins closing. Spinning, Styles holds
the backpack rod lengthwise in the path of the closing door. The door
clamps down on the rod. We hear other DOORS SLAMMING SHUT -- but the
backpack rod, shivering under the strain, seems like it might hold the
door at bay.
BLOCK VOICE
Lockdown complete.
The rod explodes. Shrapnel nearly decapitates Van Brunt. The DOOR
CRASHES SHUT.
VAN BRUNT
wish I could find a blade that would
shave that close.
STYLES
Stronger. Just a little stronger.
120 INT. CELL BLOCK
In lockdown lighting.
121 INT. DOMINGO'S CELL
START on the lower bunk, empty. MOVE to the upper bunk. We find Kiryu
here, naked and asleep, her head pillowed on Domingo. He's wide awake.
Listening. Standing guard for them both.
Something grabs his leg. Domingo lunges with his shank. It nearly
cuts...
Grimes, his hand snaking back through the side bars.
GRIMES
Little jumpy, huh?
122 INT. THREE CELLS
A midnight meeting: Styles and Van Brunt stand at the side bars of
their cell, looking past Grimes to confer with Domingo and Kiryu in
the cell once-removed.
STYLES
Having second thoughts about this
place -- an' to tell the truth,
they're the same as my first ones. I
want to make a move.
DOMINGO
Let's do it. Tomorrow. Go up top,
find that little skag-ass bellhop
and grab his cell so's we --
STYLES
(shaking head)
I want out, Domingo. The Big Out.
123 PREPARATIONS MONTAGE
In a collage of fast-moving SHOTS, we see preparations for the
breakout:
A. Foundry. End of shift. Kiryu is getting paid, a guard counting
coins into her palm. The guard fails to notice the metal-weave
bracelet on her wrist.
B. Cell. Kiryu unwinds the bracelet. It's made of pilfered wire,
yards of it.
C. Bottom tier. Beneath a staircase, Styles uses the wire to saw
the joints of the floor grating.
D. Cell. A sink faucet, untended, runs water.
E. Bottom tier. Domingo saws on the grate. A joint is severed.
F. Cell. After lockdown. Styles watching the tier dog prowl beyond
the bars.
G. Upper tier. Van Brunt buys shower caps from black inmates.
H. Cell. Van Brunt and Kiryu pick glow-worms off the ceiling,
collecting them in the plastic caps.
I. Cell. The sink faucet runs endlessly.
J. Cell. Styles saws the ends off the broken backpack rod,
fashioning pieces of equal length.
K. Bottom tier. Domingo lifts the cut-out panel free of the
grating. The hole leads straight down into the machinery level.
L. Cell. The water from the faucet finally begins to dwindle.
124 INT. STYLES' CELL
BLOCK VOICE
Lockdown. Ten seconds to lockdown.
The cell door moves to within a foot of closure -- then stops, blocked
by a new rod. It's three sections of rod wired together into one thick
bundle of steel. We hear the OTHER DOORS SLAMMING CLOSED.
BLOCK VOICE
Lockdown complete.
Straining to close, the cell door GROWLS. Shudders. WHINES. And then,
with a SHATTERING CRACK, it surrenders. Styles appears -- and slides
the cell door open as easily as if he were stepping onto a patio.
125 INT. BOTTOM TIER - CELL BLOCK
Morning. Prisoners file for staircases. The new inmates huddle at the
walkway railing, sizing up the water duct below.
STYLES
What about it?
GRIMES
It goes down, man. And down is
where the what-the-fuck lives.
STYLES
But it's gotta go back up. Water
tanker comes in at the docking port,
Level Ten.
GRIMES
Yeah? Says who? I never seen no
tanker. We're takin' your word for
everything here. I mean, why the
shit should we listen to you? How
cum nobody listens to me?
DOMINGO
'Cuz he's smart.
GRIMES
Yeah? He's here, ain't he? How
smart's that? And what's he in for?
Fraud. Does that tell you something?
VAN BRUNT
Broken out of every other place he's
been.
GRIMES
Well, this ain't every other place.
An' hey, what about you? Mr. Crash
And Burn? You fuckin' turned 49
people into ash. Now you're gonna
fly us outta here? Hey, this is
ratshit. This is a circle-jerk for
kamikazes.
STYLES
Okay, Grimes. You're out.
GRIMES
Yeah? Says who?
Fed up, Styles slap-grabs Grimes by the back of the head and walks him
away.
STYLES
What's your sentence, Grimes? 32
years or something?
GRIMES
26 with good behavior.
STYLES
Figure 32. Think you can last that
long? In the foundry? Or down here?
See, Van Brunt I need for a pilot.
Domingo I need because he's strong
and won't mind snapping necks on the
other end if it comes to that. Kiryu
I need because Domingo won't come
without her. But you, you little
turkey neck, the only reason you're
plugged in is because I need to keep
an eye on that shit-spewin' mouth of
yours.
GRIMES
I dunno know, man. I dunno. Why
should we rely on you?
STYLES
You don't rely on me. If I go down
when we're goin' out, I want you to
keep goin'. I want you to crawl over
my bloody corpse and get out of this
hellhole. Because believe me,
Grimes. I'd do the same for you.
He shoves Grimes back toward the others.
STYLES
When the water goes, we go.
126 INT. HULL SECTION - CORRIDOR
"HULL-REPAIR PACK -- EMERGENCY USE ONLY"
Beneath the warning, a blast-pack hangs in a wall recess. Hands jerk
the pack away.
WIDER, we see S.S. guards moving down the corridor with a hand-cart.
The cart is stacked high with blast-packs.
127 INT. SPECIAL SERVICES ARMORY
Boss finishes positioning nozzles of two blast-packs. They've ben
integrated into a doorway trap made of welded pipe. Lasers serve as
trip-wires.
BOSS
Awright, stand clear.
S.S. guards back off. Boss unpins a sonic grenade and pitches it
through the doorway. Lightning-fast:
The grenade trips the beams.
Blast-packs spray from both sides, shooting out a thick hull-patching
resin.
The sonic GRENADE DETONATES.
The resin catches the explosion, coating and drying it instantly.
A plate of resin clatters to the floor. A starburst pattern bulges
from its center.
BOSS
There's the concept. Figure we got
the makin's for a good ten traps.
Now let's wipe ass and make it work.
Guards begin hauling away blast-packs, pipe, welders. Boss steps to
his Right and Left Nut.
BOSS
Whaddya think?
RIGHT NUT
Think a grenade's a grenade -- and a
"decontained biohazard" ain't.
BOSS
Yead, I know. That's why I had the
foundry make these up.
He opens a munitions box. Inside are needle-rounds for a stitch rifle
-- big nasty ones.
LEFT NUT
Oh, fuck me hard, I love it.
BOSS
Four times the normal bore with
phophorus-magnesium tips. They'll
burn hard and fast, so inboard
passages only. Got it?
RIGHT NUT
(digging in)
Party favors...
128 INT. CONTROL-ROOM - P-4 LAB
After hours. The control room is shadowy and quiet.
MR. LONE (O.S.)
I wonder if it knows we're here.
Sometimes it moves in a certain way,
turning its head as if to look out.
VIEW FINDS Lone at the window of the cradle chamber, entranced by the
artificial womb that rolls around gently inside.
MR. LONE (CONT'D)
It makes me wonder. What it must
think. If it does see us.
Finally he looks to Mohl, seated at a console, working with the video
replays.
MR. LONE
Let me know when you have something
for me.
Mohl nods. Lone turns for the door.
129 INT. CRADLE CHAMBER - P-4 LAB
WOMB'S POV: Of Lone leaving.
130 INT. INFIRMARY
CLOSE on a monitor. Someone is cycling through daylight views of the
station's exterior. The monitor holds on an angle of the docking port.
Styles is leaning over the monitor. He absently rubs the back of one
hand as he concentrates.
MED-TECH #2
Breaking out?
STYLES
(jarred)
Huh?
The med-tech looks closer at his hand.
MED-TECH #2
That rash. Here. Let's try this.
(sprays spot with
canister)
Give it a couple minutes.
She sets the canister down and leaves. Brow furrowing, Styles sniffs
the sprayed area -- and finds something familiar in the smell. He
picks up the canister. Checks the contents. Hangs onto it as he heads
for Packard's office.
131 INT. PACKARD'S OFFICE - INFIRMARY
Packard sits at the terminal, back to VIEW. A man's troubled face is
seen on the screen. Something's wrong here.
HUSBAND
...waiting for a good time, but you
know, there never was any.
PACKARD
You're not renewing the contract, is
that it?
HUSBAND
C'mon, Chris, you had to know. We
haven't been together in five
months. And I'm not saying that's
your fault. But I'm down here, and
you're stuck up there, and there's
just a lot of things going on in my
life right now...
On the screen, a young woman wanders into the BACKGROUND. Hearing
conversation, she turns toward VIEW and seems startled to see the
husband conversing. Too late, the woman darts away.
PACKARD
Yeah. I can see.
HUSBAND
I, uh, better go. Eikenberry will
clean up the legal stuff, if that's
okay with you.
(no response)
Be well, Chris.
Disconnect. Packard's eyes puddle up. Trying to shake it off, she
wipes her face and checks her reflection in the dead screen. There's
another face there.
PACKARD
(spinning)
Want to try knocking next time?
STYLES
There's no door.
PACKARD
So beat your head against...
(apologizing)
It's not you, it's just...this
place.
STYLES
Didn't know you were married.
PACKARD
Well, you weren't alone.
STYLES
First contract?
PACKARD
(nodding)
One five-year.
STYLES
Hey, least you went the distance. I
got 17 days out of my three-year.
PACKARD
You were married for 17 days?
STYLES
Two-and-half weeks of Holy Deadlock.
(entering, sitting)
She was one of these sweet young
things that writes you torrid
letters while you're in prison.
Don't really understand it, but some
women just seem attracted to
incarcerated men.
PACKARD
Some sick females out there.
STYLES
We got married in prison. I wanted
to surprise her with a honeymoon, so
I did the Midnight March over the
wall. Surprise was on me. She was
married to three other guys in three
other prisons.
PACKARD
(feeling it)
Ohhhh...
They commiserate in silence. Then Packard stands, getting back to
work.
PACKARD
Well. Did you want something?
STYLES
(showing canister)
Mind if I take it with me? Just for
my hand here.
PACKARD
That's alcohol-based. Could be used
for a torch. They aren't going to
let you in the cell block with it.
STYLES
They will if you sign for it.
PACKARD
Christ. Why can't you just steal
things like a normal prisoner?
STYLES
(leaving)
Okay.
PACKARD
Don't you dare.
(suspicious again)
If I sign, you aren't gonna screw me
with this, are you? Because once a
day is my personal limit.
STYLES
Would I do that?
PACKARD
If I gave you half a chance.
STYLES
Which you haven't.
She looks him over, trying to figure him out -- and maybe just now
sees the man inside the prisoner. Then with as much vulnerability as
she'll ever show:
PACKARD
I have this thing about trust.
Betrayal, actually. So just don't
lie to me, okay? Not unless you're
absolutely sure I'll never find out.
He smiles winningly. And helps wipe her face dry.
132 INT. INFIRMARY
Styles and Packard are visible through the office window. PULL BACK to
reveal Daggs watching them -- closely. When Styles exits the office...
DAGGS
Hey, sex ape.
Styles veers closer.
DAGGS
Let me ask you somethin'. Do you
give the smallest shit about this
lady? Or you just scammin' her?
STYLES
Don't know what you mean, Daggs.
Just doin' a job, that's all.
(flipping canister)
Just doin' a job.
133 INT. STYLES' CELL
CLOSE on a faucet, sputtering out the last of its water. PULL BACK to
reveal Styles and the other new inmates. That's all they were waiting
for.
134 INT. CELL BLOCK
After lockdown. A WHISTLE sounds. Entry doors open. Guard dogs run
free.
135 INT. BOTTOM TIER - CELL BLOCK
The tier dog appears. Nose low, it circles the walkway once and finds
nothing irregular.
CLOSE on two feet. They swing away from the underside of a staircase
and drop to the walkway with a soft THUNK.
Hearing, the dog turns.
It's Styles. Outside his cell.
The dog takes off like a guided missile. Styles waits, needing to time
this just right. Now he starts running. And just when the dog is about
to chew him a second asshole...
A cell door opens by itself.
136 INT. EMPTY CELL - BOTTOM TIER
Styles cuts inside. The dog sticks with him. Styles dives through a
cut-away area of the side bars, entering the next cell. The dog tries
to follow -- but a mattress appears, blocking the hole. The dog turns
back for the cell door just as...
Strands of wire pull it closed.
The dog is trapped.
137 INT. BOTTOM TIER
The new inmates exit the adjacent cell. Skulking past, Grimes blows
the trapped dog a kiss.
138 INT. UNDER TIER WALKWAY - MACHINERY LEVEL
As the new inmates drop through the cut-out panel.
139 INT. MACHINERY LEVEL
Blackness. Then an orb of soft light appears, followed by others: The
inmates are taking out shower caps filled with glow-worms.
STYLES
Not. A fucking. Sound.
They move out.
140 INT. MACHINERY LEVEL
CLOSE on a laser trip-beam. TILT UP to find Styles pondering the
doorway trap. Wanting no part of it, he leads the others around.
141 INT. MACHINERY LEVEL
Domingo cranks open a hatch atop the main water line. Van Brunt
reaches inside to plumb the bottom. His fingers come back...
VAN BRUNT
Dry.
142 INT. WATER DUCT
Styles leads, followed by Kiryu, Domingo, Grimes, Van Brunt. They
crawl, glow-worm bags strung around their necks like brandy kegs. It's
tight in here, no room to turn around, and they hate it. Especially
Grimes.
143 INT. JUNCTION - WATER DUCT
A forking junction. Styles doesn't know which way. He mentally flips a
coin and veers to the right.
144 INT. WATER DUCT
Grimes slows to a stop. Is the duct sloping? Or is it just his
imagination?
GRIMES
Hey. Styles.
VAN BRUNT
Shut up, man.
GRIMES
Styles. We're goin' down. Shoulda
gone the other way, man, shoulda
gone left back there at --
Domingo kicks him in the face.
DOMINGO
Sorry.
They crawl on, Grimes nursing a bloody lip. But trailing, Van Brunt
stops to cock an ear. What was that SOUND? He looks back through his
legs to see...
A long empty tunnel.
Van Brunt hurries to catch up. HOLD on the emptiness. And now we
hear it: It's that SLIDING-CLAWING sound -- the noise that makes our
balls want to crawl up in our stomachs and hide there.
145 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT
As the massive water tanker pilots to a stop just beyond the blockade
of red buoys.
146 INT. DOCKING PORT
TANKER PILOT (V.O.)
Moloch Island, this is Tanker
WYT/116 requesting permission to
dock at Level 10 gantry.
The DOCKING OFFICER checks the time, shakes her head.
DOCKING OFFICER
Once in his life he's early...
(into headset)
WYT/116, this is Moloch Island
Docking Control. Bring it on in.
147 EXT. DOCKING PORT - SPACE STATION - NIGHT
As the tanker docks.
148 INT. WATER DUCT
START on running water, coursing several inches deep along the floor
of the duct. MOVE to Styles, taking note of the deepening water before
crawling on.
149 INT. VALVE - WATER DUCT
Styles reaches an oversized butterfly valve. Water gushes out around
the edges. He tries to rotate it open but can't.
STYLES
'Mingo.
Domingo sloshes past Kiryu to join him.
DOMINGO
(indicating water)
Shit's gettin' deeper.
STYLES
Noticed.
DOMINGO
Mean what I think it means?
STYLES
Maybe.
DOMINGO
Uh, Kiryu, she don't swim so hot.
Just told me. Maybe we should think
about, y'know, maybe goin' back.
STYLES
Can't.
DOMINGO
Why not?
STYLES
'Cuz I have no fucking idea where we
are. Now push while I burn.
He unpockets the canister from the infirmary, lights the aerosol. He
turns his torch on hinge of the valve.
150 INT. MAIN WATER TANK
From the other side, we see the valve being bent away. Styles wriggles
through first, then sloshes to his feet. He looks around in dreadful
wonder.
A sky of glow-worms illuminates the cavernous grotto. Waterfalls.
Tortured outcroppings of secreted resin. Everything wreaks of decay.
One by one, the inmates enter. All look around with the same thought.
"Let's get through here fast."
Styles eyes the largest waterfall, fed by an conduit near the ceiling.
The adjacent wall looks climbable. He starts for it, pushing through
hip-deep water.
Silent, anxious, the other follow. Van Brunt touches an outcropping.
Bones interlace the black resin. Human bones.
Trailing, Grimes hears a SPLASH. He whirls to see...
A footprint spreading on the water. Did something fall in? Or did
something dive in?
Styles reaches the far side of the pool. Slips out. Waits for the
others. Then starts up the wall.
Skirting the waterfall, the inmates climb.
Grimes keeps an eye on the water below. Nothing surfaces to give
chase. Breathing a little easier, he climbs out of FRAME -- but we
HOLD on the waterfall. Beneath its veil of water, a black shadow
climbs.
Styles scales a platform at the head of the waterfall. He turns back
to wait for the others, then...
STYLES
Where's Grimes?
VAN BRUNT
Thought he was right...
They look back down just as...
Grimes bursts through the waterfall, skewered on the tail of the
Rogue Alien. He tries to scream but can only vomit blooded water. As
quickly as he appeared, Grimes vanishes.
A bone-freezing moment. Suddenly Styles leaps into the conduit that
feeds the waterfall...
151 INT. OVERSIZED CONDUIT
...and grabs the ceiling hand-grips. Kiryu, Van Brunt, Domingo come on
his ass. Hand over hand, they sling over the quick-moving water,
heading upstream. Domingo chances a look back to see...
The Rogue Alien.
DOMINGO
It's fuckin' comin'!
Flushed with adrenaline, the inmates pick up the speed, hands blurring
over the grips, Van Brunt jungle-gyms past Kiryu: She's having trouble
keeping up.
Styles peers ahead, How much further? How much?
The Rogue gains.
Kiryu misses a grip. She breaks her fall but can only hang, arms on
fire. Just when it seems she'll drop into the river...
Domingo catches her from behind, scissoring her in his legs.
DOMINGO
Hold onto me! Hold on!
Kiryu twines around him. Carrying both weights now, Domingo swings
onward.
152 INT. LANDING - OVERSIZED CONDUIT
Styles reaches a landing -- and the end of the line: A downpour of
water falls from an overhead shaft. The conduit terminates here.
153 INT. OVERSIZED CONDUIT
CLOSE on Domingo's hands, ripped and bleeding.
Kiryu slips down his body. Now her feet drag in the river, slowing
them even more.
Trying to work different muscles, Domingo switches to a back-handed
grab. It doesn't help.
154 INT. LANDING - OVERSIZED CONDUIT
Van Brunt makes the landing. Looks around. Can't find...
VAN BRUNT
Styles!
Suddenly he's there, stepping out of the downpour.
STYLES
There's a ladder! Here!
Van Brunt plunges an arm into the water. Gropes upward. Feels the
first rung. Gulps air and vanishes into the downpour. Styles looks
back to see...
The Rogue right behind Domingo and Kiryu. In three seconds they'll
be dead. Unless Domingo will...
STYLES
Drop her.
The Rogue's long bony back slips underwater.
STYLES
Drop her.
Domingo keeps coming. Kiryu keeps holding on.
STYLES
Drop her, Domingo!
He never does. Something black rushes up from the water. In a
heartbeat, they're both gone.
155 INT. VERTICAL WATER SHAFT
SHOTS of Van Brunt and Styles climbing. WATER THUNDERS down -- it's
like showering under a thousand fire hoses.
156 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CONDUIT ROOM
An access hatch turns, opens. Van Brunt falls out of the HOWLING
WATER. The hatch is part of a duct that runs from floor to ceiling.
Moments later, Styles falls into the room.
They lie on the floor like docked fish, gulping air. They don't know
where they are. They only know they're alive.
Styles makes it back to his feet. Moves to the hatch. Pushes it closed
-- but something blocks it open.
The Rogue's face rages at the crack.
Van Brunt slams into the hatch, adding his weight -- but still they
can't close it. Styles looks frantically around the room, spots a
skein of wire.
STYLES
The wire, the wire! Loop it around!
Van Brunt pushes away from the hatch and runs for the wire.
CLOSE on the trip-beam he doesn't see. The beam of the doorway trap.
The beam he breaks in full stride.
Blast-packs shoot from all sides. Van Brunt is coated and dried in
mid-air.
Trap ALARMS WAIL.
Styles stares at the fallen statue that was Van Brunt -- until a jolt
from the hatch turns him back.
The Rogue's leg thrusts through the crack, groping for the floor.
Styles pushes for all he's worth.
Am arm sweeps around the hatch, swiping blindly. Styles ducks, dodges,
holds his ground.
CLATTERING SOUND. Piece by piece, the Rogue begins extruding through
the foot-wide crack, plates and ribs unhinged. Styles is losing the
battle -- and maybe the war.
The hatch explodes open. Styles flies back.
The Rogue surges into the room and snaps together with a body-flex.
Styles turns to run...
And finds a flame-thrower staring at him.
He ducks as the S.S. guard pulls the trigger. FLAME ROARS right over
Styles' head...
Engulfing the Rogue.
More S.S. guards appear, OPENING FIRE with chittering stitch rifles
and concussion grenades. Blinding flashes. Streaming trails of
phosphorous. Flaming acid.
Styles hits the deck and covers up.
Burning needles stitch across the Rogue's neck, severing the head from
body. Impossibly, it stays on its feet.
Acid lands all around Styles, opening gashes in the floor.
The captain enters. He steps over the Rogue's head to enter the fray
-- but the head strikes with its jaws, still alive, hooking the
captain's thigh and twisting him down. At close range, the captain
empties his stitch gun into the head. Acid brains splash back,
covering him.
Finally the headless Rogue falls.
The guns go quiet. A long smoky beat. This was, very simply, one of
the most hellacious firefights we've ever seen. The room has been
blasted into another time zone.
Styles unballs and looks. The captain lies dead. But dead, too, is the
Rogue Alien. It's over. The nightmare is over.
Suddenly the floor caves in...
157 INT. MORGUE - P-4 LAB
...crash-landing Styles into the room below. Shaking off
unconsciousness, he sees...
Prisoners. All dead. All inside shrink-wrap membrane. All torn apart
in the most hideous fashion imaginable. One face is recognizable as
Ivory's.
And now Styles realizes that, no, the nightmare isn't over. In fact
it's just begun.
158 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CONDUIT ROOM
Bodies and body parts under sheets. Lone is here, standing at the edge
of the collapsed floor, looking down into the P-4 morgue. Momentarily
he steps through a door to look at...
159 INT. CORRIDOR
Styles. Back in full chains, pinned to the wall by guards. Lone fixes
him with those bottomless black eyes. And then shakes his head as he
leaves.
MR. LONE
Snag.
160 INT. ELEVATOR
STYLES
So what's the verdict?
No answer from Daggs, who rides the elevator down with two S.S.
guards.
STYLES
C'mon, Daggs. If they're gonna cash
me out, 'least you can tell me.
Doors open. Daggs lets the S.S. guards exit first.
DAGGS
Let's put it this way. I don't think
you'll wanna renew any magazines.
161 INT. SOLITARY CELL
A coffin of a room. Styles is chained to the wall.
VOICE
Just for future reference. Am I the
world-class jerk I feel like? I
mean, was I such an easy mark?
He finds Packard's face staring down from a caged monitor in the
ceiling.
PACKARD
They found the canister. The one you
used for a torch. Targeted me,
didn't you? Right from the top.
Christ, I shoulda known better.
Years ago, I shoulda known better.
Styles looks away.
PACKARD
Don't feel anything, do you? Nothing
for the ones that died.
STYLES
Me?
PACKARD
Your idea, wasn't it? The escape?
Well, I'm told five people are dead
today, including the captain of the
guards, who --
STYLES
How 'bout you? What do you feel?
PACKARD
Me.
STYLES
I came to you, remember? Tried to
tell you that people were dyin'
here, dyin' in some bad craziness.
And you didn't hear. You didn't
wanna hear.
Packard goes quiet. Smelling her guilt, Styles rises up in his chains.
STYLES
There was this prisoner. Worked in
the foundry. They fumed him out two
days ago. You musta seen it -- they
piped it through this place like the
World Fucking Series. Well, guess
what? I just saw him, saw him hacked
up like something that doubled back
through the slaughterhouse.
PACKARD
What is this? Another angle, another
scam? You think that if you concoct
some --
STYLES
You tell me what it is. Tell me what
happened to the half-dozen guys I
saw in body bags. And while
you're --
The screen goes dead.
STYLES
(raging)
While you're at it, tell me what
they're really makin' behind that
door, that big fuckin' honker of a
door where your pal Reed works. You
really think it's drugs? Just drugs?
The monitor stays dark -- but there's a small red dot visible in an
upper corner. Was it there before? Before she appeared?
STYLES
Then I'll tell you. It's hooked up
to this thing, this living gargoyle
that they tried to slough off as a
rabid dog. That's why I was trying
to get outta here, Packard -- just
to stay alive. Can you understand
that?
Nothing but the red dot. Styles slumps in his chains.
STYLES
I know a lot of these guys are human
sludge. Some of 'em should die --
and maybe even me, too. Not 'cause I
ever killed anyone. But just for the
whole shitty mess I've made of life.
But hey. Nobody deserves to die the
way they do around here. Nobody.
162 INT. PACKARD'S OFFICE - INFIRMARY
Packard is at her terminal, still staring down at Styles. Still
listening.
163 EXT. SPACE STATION - SUNSET
As the sun is extinguished by Earth, throwing the station into night.
164 INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE P-4 LAB
START on the vault-like door. PULL BACK to include Packard, staring at
it. She waits for foot-traffic to clear before laying a hand on the
doorside scanner.
ACCESS DENIED -- UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL.
She didn't think it would be that easy.
165 INT. CARGO ANNEX - DOCKING PORT
CLOSE on a sheet being pulled back. Beneath is the shrink-wrapped
corpse of the captain.
Packard holds the sheet. She checks over her shoulder to make sure the
docking officers can't see. Then she unpockets a scalpel.
166 INT. P-4 LAB
The vault-like door opens. Packard steps inside, quickly wrapping up
the amputated hand. She ventures deeper into the rambling containment
facility, seeing...
Lab animals behind glass...
Terminal screens with shifting gene maps...
Automated biochemistry machines -- sequencers, purifiers,
synthesizers, fermentation tanks -- all filtering and HUMMING...
Active culture dishes marked "Viable Clone Material"...
Small stockpiles of pharmaceuticals being produced. Drugs are being
made here, and that seems to placate Packard. Until she spies...
Another door. At the far end of the lab.
167 INT. CRADLE CHAMBER - P-4 LAB
WOMB'S POV: Of someone entering. Stopping. Looking around. And
stepping closer.
168 INT. CONTROL ROOM - P-4 LAB
It's Packard. She's peering through the chamber window at the
amorphous thing inside. She moves to a console, activates chamber
lamps to see...
The womb. Floating. Spasming.
169 INT. CRADLE CHAMBER - P-4 LAB
WOMB'S POV: Of Packard leaving the window.
170 INT. CONTROL ROOM - P-4 LAB
Minutes later. Packard works the terminal, raiding classified files.
Many have the division heading...
PACKARD
"Bio-Weapons." Everywhere.
She enters a "PROGRAM DIRECTIVE" file.
PACKARD
(scanning)
"Program Director is charged with
determining the feasibility of
chemically and/or genetically
altering existing xenomorphic
species in order to produce a more
adaptive, manageable, transportable
strain. To this end, Director will
avail...
(backtracking)
"Xenomorphic species..."
A nervous glance at the artificial womb. Then moving on, Packard
plunders the "PROGRAM HISTORY" directory. Videographs flit across the
screen. One makes Packard backtrack.
CLOSER on the screen. "DECEASED" beneath the face of a woman. She
seems about Packard's age. But with the too-old eyes of someone who
has seen Hell twice -- and returned to talk about it. The woman is
Ripley.
Now Packard notices an open file-box. Videocards. She picks one at
random and feeds it into a terminal slot.
CLOSER. "BREACH TEST #4/B." Fast-forwarding images. Stopping to reveal
SCREAMING. A man's face in chaos. He's inside the bunker. Being
shredded by an Alien.
PACKARD
Jesus...
Shaking, she slots a second videocard.
CLOSER. Another annotated tape of another prisoner's death.
Packard is about to try a third when a NOISE interrupts. She spins to
see...
Mohl, Reed's assistant. He's climbing a sub-floor staircase -- a
staircase that wasn't there a minute ago.
Packard blanks the terminal and slips behind a bulkhead.
Mohl throws a switch. A plate in the floor closes, hiding the stairs.
He moves to the terminal console.
Now Packard spots...
The videocard she didn't put away.
Checking equipment, Mohl turns his back.
In one thin second, Packard steps out, slips the card off the counter,
retreats to shadow.
Mohl turns. Did he hear something? He scans the control room -- and
notices the exposed file-box. With the press of a button, the file-box
withdraws into the console. Mohl keys it shut and leaves.
171 INT. HIDDEN STAIRS
The VIEW LOOKS UP the stairs as the overhead plate opens. Packard
descends cautiously. At the bottom of the stairs is a door. She lifts
the unlock-lever to enter...
172 INT. COLD-CORE AIRLOCK
An airlock. Packard reaches the other end. Peers through a window
there but can't see anything. Reaches for the next unlock-lever -- and
reconsiders, noticing...
Thermal suits hanging on the wall.
Just to be safe, she drags one on. OXYGEN BREATHES into the helmet.
Now Packard opens the next door. Instantly her legs are gone, lost
amid clouds of super-chilled air that billow into the airlock.
Stunned, Packard checks the suit's thermo-gauge. Seconds ago normal,
now the readout hits minus-175 -- and still plwnmets.
173 INT. COLD-CORE CHAMBER
Packard holds in the doorvay. Where are the lights? She moves inside
to look for controls -- and the door behind her seals, thrusting us
into an even deeper dark.
She waits for her eyes to adjust. Only RESPIRATOR SOUNDS. Finally
Packard can read her thermo-gauge. Minus-400.
Small blinks of machinery become visible. Packard edges to the lights
and leans her helmet closer. Some kind of bio-readouts? She touches
the panel. A light springs on to illuminate...
The Alien.
Packard recoils the width of the room, smashing into more controls. A
second light flares on to reveal...
Another Alien.
Packard lurches to the door. Gloved hands grope for the unlock-lever.
It's not there. BREATHING comes in worthless snatches -- she's
suffocating under an avalanche of fear. All she can find is a key-
plate, a fucking key-plate.
Packard wheels back around and braces for the attack. Instead...
The Aliens haven't moved. Both are encased in glass. Dormant.
Packard forces calm on herself. Finds the key attached to the suit.
Opens the door -- and leaves it open without exiting. Some stabilizing
BREATHS. Now she heads back for a closer look.
The room is a gallery of Aliens. An army of Aliens. All behind glass.
Dreading it, Packard activates more case lights. Each Alien is
slightly different: One is silvery instead of black, a chameleon that
blends with its background. Another, the Brute Alien, shows a stockier
strain, its exoskeleton toughened with thorns. Another is a Siamese,
fused to a partner. Another is a complete abomination, as if mutated
with thalidomide.
There are more. But Packard doesn't have more nerve.
174 INT. HIDDEN STAIRS
Airlock door opens. Packard loiters inside, rehanging the suit. Done,
she turns for the stairs...
And runs into Mohl. Reed. The S.S. Boss.
175 INT. WARDEN'S OFFICE
PACKARD
Human experimentation has been
outlawed for the last 200 years.
Longer.
MR. LONE
Clearly. Yet it's arguable as to
whether any prisoner died illegally.
Lone, Reed, S.S. Boss. All seated, all watching Packard prowl the
room, struggling with her temper.
PACKARD
How can you say that? I saw the
replays. I saw them, Lone.
MR. LONE
What you saw were prisoners who had
been sentenced to death. Prisoners
this colony was contractually
charged with executing.
PACKARD
They didn't die in the gas chamber.
MR. LONE
Yet they died only after their
appeals were exhausted, and only on
the scheduled day of their
execution. Does a few hours delay
make such a difference?
He uses words like surgical instruments. It rankles Packard.
PACKARD
It's not the time, it's the way. The
way you're killing them twice.
MR. LONE
Now you're speaking psychologically.
PACKARD
I'm talking morally. Or is that
beyond everybody's frame of
reference here?
MR. LONE
I prefer to speak legally. While
gassing is one method, no single
mode of execution is mandated by ICC
law. Though we're not eager to
publicize any of these goings-on,
Ms. Packard, they are probably
lawful nonetheless.
PACKARD
Are they really? You've brought a
lethal alien strain to within 30,000
kilometers of Earth. How many ICC
quarantine laws does that violate?
MR. LONE
Oh, probably a dozen. And on those
counts, the Company would be willing
to pay all fines levied against it,
should --
PACKARD
How 'bout this "rabid dog"? How many
inmates did it kill? And who's idea
was that?
MR. LONE
An industrial accident stemming from
the incompetence of an administrator
who has already been reassigned.
Nothing more to it than that.
PACKARD
(topping out)
What the hell are you doing with
these things? Why are they even
here?
REED
Just feasibility studies, Packard.
No big deal.
PACKARD
To study what? How good they kill?
MR. LONE
Company assets are, as you know,
many and far-reaching. There will
always be a need for defensive
weapons.
PACKARD
Excuse me. But what this company
really needs is a damn good plague.
Moving on, Lone scans a personnel file.
MR. LONE
I see you've applied for early
retirement, stress pension. I think
you've earned it.
PACKARD
No fucking kidding.
MR. LONE
700 surveyed worlds, Ms. Packard,
more than 300 owned and operated by
Weylan-Yutani. Some of them quite
desirable. Just pick your world.
I'll make it happen.
PACKARD
And if I don't want to sell out?
What then? Do I wind up in one of
your replays?
MR. LONE
You seem to be casting about for a
villain where there is none. I'm
just a businessman, Ms. Packard. And
what I'm offering is a business
deal. If you stay, you join the
team. If your personal value-
structure is such that you can't
abide the notion, retire.
Packard locks eyes with him for a long moment -- and then backs down.
She pauses at the door.
PACKARD
What happens to Styles? The prisoner
in solitary? What happens to him if
I leave?
MR. LONE
Let's worry about your future.
176 INT. CORRIDOR - ADMINISTRATION LEVEL
Packard walks blindly from the office. Reed catches up and falls in
step.
REED
It's tough at first, Packard -- but
only at first. After awhile, they're
just lab animals. You learn not to
get attached.
She walks out from under his arm.
177 INT. PACKARD'S CABIN
NARRATOR
TC/166. Class-M planet with viable
terra formed atmosphere and 112
percent Standard Gravity. Industrial
center for Weylan-Yutani mining
operations in the Third Quadrant.
Current population of 2,127 -- 67
percent male, 30 female, 3 percent
other...
START on the terminal as it spews travel information, the narrative
accompanied by images of described worlds. MOVE to Packard. She's
dumping personal belongings into a travel case.
NARRATOR (CONT'D)
RY/24. Class-G planet with no viable
atmosphere and 86 percent Standard
Gravity. Home of Weylan-Yutani's
largest deep-space observatory....
Packard reaches for a bottom shelf. As she does, something slides out
of a breast pocket and hits the floor. She picks it up.
It's the videocard, the one snatched from the P-4 lab. Imprinting
reads...
"E. S. LONE -- EYES ONLY"
Packard frowns. Did the others have the imprint? She kills the
narration and slots the videocard into the terminal.
CLOSE on the screen. "BREACH TEST 13/A." More edited, annotated images
of a prisoner under attack -- only now there's a striking difference:
It's happening in the...
PACKARD
Cellblock?
CLOSE on the screen. The Alien is smashing at bars, trying to get at
the man on the other side. The man is X-Ray, and the Alien is the
Rogue. Somehow, someone has managed to record this unforeseen attack
-- from numerous angles.
PACKARD
(seething)
No villains...
178 INT. SOLITARY CELL
Styles looks up. FOOTSTEPS approach, at least two sets. Are they
coming for him? He rises in his chains. Sounds of an UNLOCK MECHANISM.
The door opens, pummeling Styles with light. But there, amid all that
incandescence, stands an archangel.
PACKARD
That's the one.
SOLITARY GUARD
He looks all right to me.
PACKARD
Hey. If I didn't have to do surgery
at this time of night, you think I'd
really be here?
179 INT. CORRIDOR
Styles lies on a gurney, Packard wheeling. Voices low:
PACKARD
They set it loose. Intentionally.
They had replays of the whole thing.
STYLES
Reed?
PACKARD
Lone. Lone all the way.
180 INT. ELEVATOR
Packard shoves the gurney inside. Doors close.
STYLES
Okay, where to?
PACKARD
Docking port. There's an inbound
transport. If I timed this right, we
can be on it before they know you're
gone. He hooks her arm.
STYLES
Hey. You know, I'm not sure I woulda
done this for you.
She stares -- and sees that he means it.
PACKARD
How did you get this far without
someone driving a stake through your
heart?
STYLES
Just tryin' to be honest with you.
PACKARD
Well, it's a lousy time to start.
Now how long can you hold your
breath?
STYLES
Why?
Packard snaps open a roll of layered plastic, a small vacuum device
attached to one end. It's a body bag.
STYLES
Aw, fuck.
PACKARD
It's the only way I can get you
inside the docking port.
STYLES
Dead?
PACKARD
One minute. That's all the time I
need, Styles. Sixty seconds.
Hating it, Styles sheathes the bag around himself and lies back down.
The elevator tops out.
PACKARD
Close your eyes. Take a breath. And
then don't move.
He obeys. Packard hits the vacuum switch...
And, the plastic implodes, shrink-wrapping Styles in an eyebllnk.
He's petrlfled alive.
181 INT. ELEVATOR STOP - UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR
Doors open. Clock ticking in her head -- in our heads -- Packard
muscles the gurney out, Styles' body now beneath a loose sheet. VIEW
FOLLOWS as she pushes down the corridor and passes foot-traffic.
PACKARD
Pardon me...comin' through...'scuze
me...comin' through...
Making good time, she turns a corner...
182 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR
And finds a roadblock of guards. Chatting.
Packard glances around for a corridor, an equavator, anything that
will get her around. Nothing.
She looks down. The sheet has slipped from Styles' face. He already
looks dead. Fighting off panic, Packard jerks the sheet back up and
pushes straight ahead.
She passes the guards eventlessly -- though one guard leans out to
watch Packard hurrying down the corridor -- hurrying just a little too
fast. The guard is Daggs.
183 INT. GUARD POST - DOCKING PORT
Packard reaches the docking gate. She rushes the gurney inside, but...
VOICE
Whoa, whoa, whoa...
She looks back. A DOCKING GUARD is scowling.
DOCKING GUARD
Where you goin'?
PACKARD
Oh, just want to make sure we catch
the transport.
DOCKING GUARD
Who's "we"?
PACKARD
"Me." Just me.
DOCKING GUARD
Well, it's runnin' few minutes late.
So let's get you checked in proper.
He takes a last hit on his cigarette. Stubs it out. Finds his
manifest. Saunters to the gurney. Pulls back the sheet. Are we
imagining it? Or is Styles' face blue?
DOCKING GUARD
How'd it happen?
PACKARD
C'mon, does it matter? He's dead.
DOCKING GUARD
Just askin'. I mean, he looks in
pretty good shape.
PACKARD
Asphyxia, awright? He suffocated.
You need the I.D.? Here, right on
the arm.
The docking guard starts to write. Packard steals a look at Styles.
He's moving inside the plastic, twitching involuntarily.
DOCKING GUARD
Shit.
PACKARD
What?
DOCKING GUARD
(scribbling circles)
Company pens. Never work right.
(turning away)
Gimme a second while I --
PACKARD
Here, here, here...
She snatches the clipboard, scribbles the prisoner number with her own
pen, heaves the gurney away.
PACKARD
I'll dump him with the others.
184 INT. CARGO ANNEX - DOCKING PORT
The gurney slams to a stop against a cargo container -- and Styles
flops off, hitting the floor face-first. Packard falls on top and
tears at the plastic with her fingers. She can't break through.
DYING SOUNDS from Styles.
Packard jams her pen into his mouth and tears. A GREAT GUZZLE OF AIR.
She rips more plastic. Birthing free, Styles rolls to all fours.
STYLES
Take it back. I would do this for
you. Anytime.
She reaches to the runners of the gurney, grabs med-tech scrubs.
PACKARD
Get naked.
185 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT
As buoys rearrange to greet the incoming transport.
186 INT. SOLITARY WARD
Daggs enters. He moves to the wall of monitors that show prisoners in
solitary cells.
DAGGS
Styles. What number?
SOLITARY GUARD
Was in 14.
Daggs double-takes. "Was"?
SOLITARY GUARD
Just bounced him to the infirmary.
187 INT. WARDEN'S OFFICE
The DESK CHIMES.
MR. LONE
Yes?
BOSS (V.O.)
Boss here. Got a transfer that says
prisoner M23842 is supposed to be
down in telesurgery, but I'm --
MR. LONE
Styles? He was moved? By whom?
BOSS (V.O.)
Packard, in-house D.P.
188 INT. INFIRMARY
Boss and Daggs.
BOSS
(into intercom)
We're down in the infirmary now, and
it looks dead. Now maybe this guy's
just lost in transit, but maybe not.
Daggs just saw Packard up on Level
Ten.
MR. LONE (V.O.)
Docking port. Get some men there.
Now, please. I'll call ahead.
189 INT. DOCKING PORT
Styles and Packard exit the cargo annex, Styles wearing med-tech
scrubs. They reach the mobile operations console just as...
An INTERCOM BUZZES. The docking guard doesn't hear it yet, standing at
the nearby view port. INTERCOM BUZZES again.
Packard reaches down and kills it.
190 INT. WARDEN'S OFFICE
CALL ABORTED.
The message stares up at Lone. He considers it for a lengthy beat
before...
MR. LONE
Desk, shut it down. Shut down the
entire station.
191 INT. SPECIAL SERVICES ARMORY
Scramble lights whirl. On the move, S.S. guards snatch arms from
gunnery racks...
192 INT. ELEVATOR STOP - LOWER-LEVEL CORRIDOR
...storm into an elevator...
193 INT. EXPRESS ELEVATOR
...and squat and brace. Boss slaps open a panel marked "EXPRESS
OVERRIDE" and flattens the button inside.
194 INT. ELEVATOR SHAFT
SCREAMING HELLACIOUSLY on its cables, the express car rockets upward,
covering ten levels in two seconds.
195 INT. ELEVATOR STOP - UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR
Doors fly open. Guards roll out like bowling balls and run to their
feet.
196 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT
The transport is easing down the landing corridor. But abruptly the
buoys change, switching from blinking yellow to a strobing red. The
light is so intense it nearly blinds...
197 INT. COCKPIT - TRANSPORT SHIP
PILOT #2
(shielding eyes)
What the hell is...
198 INT. DOCKING PORT
KLAXON HORNS kick in.
STATION VOICE
Automatic shut-down in progress. All
non-essential personnel leave the
area now...
199 INT. COCKPIT - TRANSPORT SHIP
PILOT #2 throttles back and rocks the ship to a stop.
PILOT #2
(into headset)
Moloch, what's the B.F.D. here? Do
we have clearance or don't we?
200 INT. DOCKING-PORT
DOCKING OFFICER
(into headset)
Transport, be advised that --
A sidearm is pulled from the docking officer's holster. The officer
turns to find Styles with the gun. Packard covers the headset mike
with a hand.
PACKARD
(to docking officer)
Be advised that everything is fine.
We've had a temporary malfunction of
the shut-down system...
201 INT. COCKPIT - TRANSPORT SHIP
DOCKING OFFICER (V.O.)
...but repairs are already underway.
Bring it on in, transport.
202 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR
As S.S. guards double-time for the docking port.
203 INT. DOCKING PORT
At the viewport, Styles and Packard watch the transport nose closer.
STYLES
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon...
CHARGING FEET. They spin to see...
S.S. guards entering, spreading.
Too late, Styles realizes he's still holding a gun. He drops it like
toxic waste just as...
The FIREFIGHT ERUPTS. S.S. guards GANG BANG heavy. Styles and Packard
dive for the operations console. Needles stitch and chew circuitry.
Concussion grenades flash and blind all around. One EXPLODES right
between Styles and Packard.
BOSS
Down, down, power down!
As quickly as it started, the firefight is over. Guards are standing
over the stunned Styles and Packard, jerking them to their feet.
KLAXON HORNS still wail.
BOSS
Can we kill those things?
He checks for a switch on the console -- and now notices some stitch-
holes that still burn with phosphorous.
BOSS
What the...
He wheels around. Snatches a rifle away from Left Nut. Ejects the clip
to check...
The ammo. They used the big-bore rounds.
Now the klaxons die out -- only to give life to a thin PRESSURE COOKER
sound. Dreading what he's about to see, Boss turns.
There's a hole in the airlock door. Air is streaming through. Air is
streaming out.
204 INT. DOCKING PORT AIRLOCK
Like a vapor-trail, the air bores through the heart of the airlock...
205 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT
...and spews out the exterior airlock door.
206 INT. COCKPIT - TRANSPORT SHIP
PILOT #2
(seeing)
Holy...
He slaps overhead switches and throttles back.
207 EXT. TRANSPORT SHIP - NIGHT
Front-facing jets fire, reversing the ship's direction.
208 INT. DOCKING PORT
Slapping hands over the breach in the door:
BOSS
The bulkhead! Get it closed! Someone
grab a blast-pack! Move, move, move,
move!
Someone throws an emergency lever. A massive bulkhead begins RUMBLING
across the width of the port, isolating it from inner station.
S.S. guards fall back, pulling Styles and Packard with them.
Right Nut runs for a blast-pack. He finds a receptacle and finds it
empty.
RIGHT NUT
We used it. We fuckin' used it for
the...
(whirling)
We used it!
Now Boss couldn't run even if he wanted to: The suction grips his
hands, pulling them palm-first through the hole, hyperextending all
ten fingers. The horror registers before the pain.
A pressure-crease appears in the door.
One by one, Boss's fingers snap as his hands disappear through the
hole.
209 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR
Guards retreat with Styles and Packard. Other S.S. guards slash past
like scalded cats.
RIGHT NUT
It's gonna go!
Suddenly Styles and Packard are alone.
210 INT. DOCKING PORT
The airlock door collapses...
211 INT. DOCKING PORT AIRLOCK
...and tumbles through the airlock. It slams into the outer door.
Both doors tear free of the station...
212 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT
...fly out the landing corridor...
213 INT. COCKPIT - TRANSPORT SHIP
...and cartwheel toward the canopy -- toward our faces. The pilot
doesn't even have time to get his hands up.
214 EXT. TRANSPORT SHIP - NIGHT
Impact: The doors plow into the cockpit, crushing everything inside.
215 INT. DOCKING PORT
The emergency bulkhead is about to close. Suddenly a cargo container,
sucked by ESCAPING AIR, slides through the opening and wedges, bracing
the bulkhead open.
216 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR
WIND rips at everything. Equipment and people skitter toward the
docking port. Styles and Packard are swept off their feet. They, too,
will be carried away unless...
Styles grabs a moving equavator car. Packard grabs him. Skidding on
their stomachs, they're dragged away from the docking port.
217 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT
Back-up jets still firing, the transport careens out of control. The
ship picks up speed as it arcs out of VIEW, vanishing. Just when we
think we've seen the last of it, the ship reappears, boomeranging
back into FRAME, rolling wing over wing. It corkscrews down into the
station.
218 INT. CELL BLOCK
The CONCUSSION rips open a wall.
In ONE ASTOUNDING SHOT, we see debris flying inward...then stopping in
mid-air...then reversing direction as the incoming explosion meets the
outgoing pressure.
219 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT
As the wreckage of the transport ship is spit back outside amid a
HURRICANE OF ESCAPING AIR.
220 INT. GUARD HOUSE - CELL BLOCK
WINDOWS EXPLODE from their frames. Block guards fly through jagged
openings.
221 INT. CELL - CELL BLOCK
A prisoner is pinned against cell bars. He screams but can't be heard
over the RUSHING WIND. Finally his body has nowhere to go but through
the bars. He comes out the other side like bloody pasta.
222 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT
LONG SHOT: In a vast cosmic abortion, we see a thousand bodies
hurtling past VIEW and into space.
223 INT. CONTROL ROOM - P-4 LAB
Emergency lights. They strobe across walls, equipment, the cradle
chamber, and...
The womb. The Alien inside kicks like an animal with hornets in its
brain, stretching the artificial membrane to the limits. Ominously,
the first tear appears.
(NOTE: This final act unfolds in real time. Every move, every word,
every look is made as if it were someone's last -- which it may well
be. Emergency lights whirl like capering demons, and WIND SINGS
through corridors like a choir of maniacs. Starting now, we push hard
and never let up.)
224 INT. CORRIDOR CUL-DE-SAC
Broken wall panels, equipment, a derailed equavator -- a mass of
wreckage is being dumped here, in a cul-de-sac where the wind has no
outlet. Soon the pile begins moving from within, wreckage flinging
aside. Styles and Packard are digging themselves out.
225 INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE OPERATIONS
Reed appears, ducking airborne debris as he makes his way to the
Operations Room. A hand clamps his shoulder. It's Lone.
REED
They're gone. Everybody. Came
through crew quarters, and they're
just fucking gone, they're --
MR. LONE
Your data. You must --
REED
It's goin' down. Whole place. We
gotta put out a call, see if there's
a freighter or a tug or something
close that can --
MR. LONE
Your data, Mr. Reed. You must secure
your data.
REED
Fuck that. I wanna get outta here.
MR. LONE
I'll contact Gateway for help.
REED
Gateway? You want ICC Marshalls
crawlin' through this place? Down in
the lab? You prepared for that?
MR. LONE
My main concern is that the data is
retrieved and that everyone gets off
safely. Now go, Mr. Reed. I'll
contact Gateway.
Still Reed hesitates.
MR. LONE
And I'll take responsibility.
Reed ducks away. Lone pushes into Operations...
226 INT. OPERATIONS
...and moves to the master communication console. He draws a stitch-
gun from a dead officer's holster -- and FIRES it into the heart of
the radio equipment. There will be no calls for help.
227 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT
As small EXPLOSIONS rock the station.
228 INT. CONTROL ROOM - P-4 LAB
Reed rushes in. Begins down-dumping data. Notices a flashing message.
CRADLE CHAMBER MICROGRAVITY 97%
Not understanding, Reed stabs on the photo-acoustic monitor. The
screen is empty. Equipment failure? He turns to the cradle chamber.
It's empty.
Reed edges to the window. The voided womb lies at the bottom of the
chamber. Beside it, a hole has appeared in the chamber wall -- a hole
where something burned its way out.
229 INT. P-4 LAB
Exiting the control room, Reed crosses the main lab as if it were a
graveyard at midnight. Then ahead, a section of wall begins warping.
Bubbling. Melting.
REED
No, no, no, no...
An arm appears first, pushing through the wall, pores secreting acid.
Bolting, Reed makes it to the door and slaps the unlock mechanism.
And now its legs appear, stepping into the lab.
As the vault-like door opens slowly -- too slowly -- the shadow of the
Newbreed Alien falls on him from behind.
230 INT. OPERATIONS
RAPID CLOSEUPS of monitors. They show vacant corridors, twisted
conduit, wind-whipped debris. No signs of life other than...
Styles and Packard. Scanning monitors.
PACKARD
It can't be just us. I mean, we
can't be the only ones who --
Door opens. Daggs and an S.S. guard enter with guns. A tense beat as
the two sides glare at each other: Are they still enemies? Even now?
DAGGS
(pushing down other
guard's gun)
He ain't the problem no more.
PACKARD
How many others have you seen?
DAGGS
Just the little bridge party we got
goin' here.
He shoulders past them to get to the comm-panel -- and sees the fused
circuitry.
PACKARD
Found it like that.
S.S. GUARD
Well, Gateway's gotta see us. They
gotta see the wreckage.
DAGGS
Might pick it up on their docking
radar. But even it they're launching
right now...
STYLES
How long?
DAGGS
30 minutes if they bust their dicks.
If they don't...
Swapped looks. Do they have that kind of time? Packard hits switches
on the master terminal.
PACKARD
Calculate available air.
STATION VOICE
At present rate of depletion,
station atmosphere will be
unsuitable for human habitation in
17 minutes. Repeat. 17 minutes.
S.S. GUARD
Bonemeal. We're fucking bonemeal.
PACKARD
(to terminal)
Keep it on overhead.
(NOTE: STATION VOICE will count down the time whether noted herein or
not.)
STYLES
What about the Warden? There's gotta
be an --
DAGGS
Shit-canned three days ago.
STYLES
Then Lone. Can't believe he wouldn't
have some way to bail. There's gotta
be something, a lifeboat, escape
pod, something in case --
DAGGS
It's a fucking prison, huh? You
ain't supposed to get off.
Styles looks at Packard, hoping like hell she knows something the rest
of them don't.
PACKARD
You're the big escape artist.
A windy beat as Styles shoulders the burden. Packard watches, putting
her faith in him whether deserved or not, seeing his mind downshift
and picking up speed.
STYLES
Oxygen tanks. I saw some in the
infirmary. If we can just buy 20
extra minutes until --
DAGGS
Infirmary's gone. Dead-air all
around it.
He's looking at the Environmental Status Map (E.S.M.). Viable areas
show in blue, unviable in red -- and there's a shitload of red.
STYLES
Airlocks. They feed off the main
system? Or is it a separate supply?
DAGGS
Dunno.
STYLES
So why're you lookin' at me instead
of finding out?
Locked eyes. Will the guards take orders from a prisoner? Suddenly
Daggs is moving for the door, pulling the other guard along.
DAGGS
We're comin' back.
STYLES
(to Packard)
Suits, environmental suits. Weren't
there some at the docking station?
PACKARD
Probably. But on the wrong side of
the bulkhead. And I don't know if...
She has a new thought.
STYLES
What?
PACKARD
Thermal suits. Down in the P-4 lab.
They have air.
STYLES
(scanning E.S.M.)
Can we get there?
PACKARD
Maybe. Drop under on Level Six, then
cut up a starboard elevator.
STYLES
Or go over the top, Level Eight,
then shoot...
STATION VOICE
16 minutes of practical atmosphere
remaining. Repeat. 16 minutes.
STYLES
(pulling her away)
We'll find a way.
231 INT. CORRIDOR
CLOSE on a hand pressing to a doorside scanner. The door opens to
reveal...
232 INT. SPECIMEN LIBRARY
A room that recalls a small bank vault.
CLOSE as hands decode one of the lock-drawers. Unlocked, the drawer
glides out from the wall. Inside is a specimen case, a foot square.
Mohl lifts the case out. Clutching it as if it held Condor eggs, he
turns to run.
233 INT. GRATED CORRIDOR
Styles and Packard speed over a grated walkway. Abruptly he pulls her
to a stop, cocks an ear. FOOTFALLS under the WIND. They look down to
spot...
Someone running two floors below.
PACKARD
Mohl. P-4 technician.
STYLES
(a beat)
You can make the lab okay?
PACKARD
He might be as lost as we are.
STYLES
Maybe. But looks like he's heading
for the foundry -- and that's the
only other docking port, isn't it?
PACKARD
We'll both go.
STYLES
Still might need those suits.
Packard searches his eyes. She doesn't like the idea of splitting up.
Not at all.
PACKARD
Look. If there is a way off...
STYLES
Yeah?
PACKARD
Don't you fucking dare leave
without me, all right?
STYLES
Would I do that?
He gives her a reassuring smile before bounding away. HOLD on Packard
watching him leave. Her face is scared, stressed, troubled -- anything
but reassured.
STATION VOICE
15 minutes of practical atmosphere
remaining. Repeat. 15 minutes.
234 INT. IN-BOARD AIRLOCK
The two guards are ripping apart airlock walls with small tools and
bare hands. It's taking too long.
DAGGS
Get the flamer. We'll torch it out.
235 INT. P-4 LAB
Packard enters -- and pulls up short, seeing...
The lab. Pieces of Reed dangle from equipment like ornaments on a
Christmas tree.
She forces herself inside. Listens for danger but hears only the WIND.
Sees the hole in the wall where the Newbreed Alien entered: It offers
a ghostly impression of what the beast may look like.
236 INT. CORRIDOR
Clutching the specimen case, Mohl runs. TILT UP to find Styles,
shadowing him from above.
237 INT. ELEVATOR STOP - GRATED CORRIDOR
Styles reaches a blown-open elevator shaft. Needing to drop floors, he
leaps to the cables and spirals down.
238 INT. COLD-CORE AIRLOCK
Packard enters. Grabs four suits. Checks air reserves. Grabs helmets
and ties them together with cord, hands shaking all the while. Slings
helmets over one shoulder, suits over the other. Turns to get the hell
out of this place -- and freezes.
A shadow crosses the stairs, the shadow of something prowling the
lab above.
Packard shoots a glance at the door behind her -- the only other door.
It leads to the cold-core chamber. It leads to the other Aliens.
Drawing nearer, the shadow ripples down the stairs. Packard jerks on a
thermal suit. Dogs down the helmet. Pulls an unlock-lever...
239 INT. COLD-CORE CHAMBER
...and enters, instantly sealing the door and backing away.
The door-window darkens. Then the door begins warping.
A dead-man's moan from Packard. There is one place to hide -- but the
idea is so loathsome that even now, as the Newbreed breaches the final
door, Packard hesitates. Finally she unlocks a glassite case...
And snuggles up to the slumbering Alien inside.
PACKARD'S POV: Of the Newbreed slouching into the dark chamber...
coming nearer...nearer...nearer...and stopping right in front of us.
The Newbreed inhales. It can smell Packard, can smell her fear. It
just can't see her.
PACKARD'S POV: Of the Newbreed moving on.
Packard's heart restarts. And just when she thinks that the worst is
over -- that now she can survive anything -- a tail unfurls next to
her. Was it only a reflexive stretch by the Alien? Packard shoots a
look at her thermo-gauge. The temperature climbs sharply. Now
Packard spots the crack in the glassite -- the crack that lets in
heat. The Alien unfolds more, this time with a primal GROAN.
Hearing, the Newbreed looks back.
Packard bursts out of the case. Hits the floor. Rolls to her feet
just in time to see...
The Newbreed spinning around. Its whipping tail shatters a case.
Packard arrows for the door.
SHRIEKING like a derailing train, the Newbreed lunges after.
The Brute Alien -- stocky and thorned -- falls from the broken case
and dents the floor. It writhes awake.
240 INT. COLD-CORE AIRLOCK
Blasting through, Packard scoops up the other thermal suits and takes
the stairs three at a time.
241 INT. FOUNDRY
Ore bridges have fallen. A cracked furnace pours molten steel across
the floor.
Panting hard, Mohl enters. He looks around but can't find anybody. A
moment of panic -- and then Lone appears, stepping from shadow. He's
been waiting.
MOHL
Here. I've got it. Here.
Lone accepts the case. Sets it down. Opens it.
CLOSER. Inside is the amberized face-hugger -- the original Alien
specimen. Except for small biopsy channels that crisscross the amber,
the specimen is identical to when first found.
MOHL
We better hurry. You do have a way
off, right? You said you did.
Lone closes the case. Pulls out his stitch gun. Looks at Mohl with
eyes dark as death.
MOHL
(stunned)
You said you'd take care of me. If I
worked for you. You said --
MR. LONE
I know what I said.
242 INT. IN-BOARD AIRLOCK
A FLAME-THROWER ROARS. Melting wall-panels drop away. Both guards
stare dully at the exposed pneumatic system.
DAGGS
Main line. Shit, it hooks up to the
main line...
243 INT. CORRIDOR
Packard runs, tripping over the thermal suits, grabbing hits of oxygen
from the tanks. She rounds a corner...
244 INT. DARK CORRIDOR
And stops, facing a long, lonely corridor lit only by auxiliary
lights. Barely lit.
Packard gropes forward. Finds an equavator. Slaps the relay. The
indicator shows a coming car.
STATION VOICE
11 minutes of practical atmosphere
remaining. Repeat. 11 minutes.
Packard kneels to restring the helmets. But behind her, the ceiling
begins sagging, softened by acid. Two long, brambled legs extend
silently to the floor. Finished tying, Packard stands and turns.
The Newbreed HISSES in her face.
Packard recoils, falls, begins retreating on her ass. The Newbreed
walks her back...back...back...and then stops unnaturally, its
attention fixed behind Packard. She does a slow turn.
It's the Brute Alien. Body-thorns rising like hackles, it GROWLS A
CHALLENGE.
The Newbreed rears its head and SHRIEKS back.
Packard shoots looks between them. The two beasts are about to fight
-- and she's right in the goddamn middle.
The Brute Alien charges like a mad rhino.
Packard rolls.
The Aliens collide, shards of exoskeleton shattering away llke
shrapnel.
Packard grabs the thermal suits and sprints right over VIEW, leaving
tire tracks on our faces.
The fight is short but savage: The Newbreed brings its head down over
smaller Brute's shoulder -- and rips out the Brute's spine.
245 INT. FOUNDRY
Entering fast, Styles nearly falls over Mohl. He's on the floor,
dying, his face a pulpy pin-cushion.
MOHL
He said we'd be partners...
STATION VOICE
10 minutes of practical atmosphere
remaining. Repeat. 10 minutes.
Styles peers at the docking port near the top of the foundry but sees
no movement. He leaps a molten river to reach the elevator. Debris
blocks access. Styles looks for another way up. And now he spots...
Lone. Climbing a service ladder.
246 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING PORT
Lone reaches the docking platform. He sets down the specimen case and
moves to the viewport. He unpockets a small box, a Remote Retrieval
Unit (R.R.U.).
CLOSE on the R.R.U. opening. The inner lid lights up, becoming a
ranging screen. A blip shows a target three clicks out.
Lone thumbs a servo-switch. At first only dark Earth is visible out
the viewport. Then something moves, something highlighted by flaring
thruster-jets.
247 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT
As Lone's drone ship maneuvers toward the station.
248 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING PORT
The ship looms larger and larger until finally it fills the viewport.
CLANGING SOUNDS of docking. Lone abandons the R.R.U. and turns for...
The specimen case. It's open. And empty.
VOICE
Not quite sure what it is...
Styles has the amberized face-hugger.
STYLES (CONT'D)
But figure it's pretty valuable. I
mean, you're takin' it instead of
your partner down there, right?
Lone eyes the stitch gun resting nearby. Styles holds the face-hugger
over the side of the platform, threatening to drop it. Lone stays put.
STYLES
Just a guess, of course. But maybe
it's some kind of prototype. Huh?
Little pocket-edition that you had
the boys in the lab whip up?
MR. LONE
Tell me what you want.
STYLES
Or is this what the others came
from? Like the one somebody set
loose under the cell block. Huh?
Where'd that come from, Lone? Any
idea?
MR. LONE
I can give you air. Enough for you
to survive until the Gateway ships
arrive.
STYLES
(indicating face-hugger)
Is this it, Lone? Is this where a
whole lotta bad craziness began?
STATION VOICE
Eight minutes of practical
atmosphere remaining. Repeat. Eight
minutes.
MR. LONE
If you want to negotiate, Mr.
Styles, let's get down to business.
STYLES
Business. Man, that's what it's all
about, isn't it? 'Cause if you can
cut free with this chunk of rock,
you're back in business.
MR. LONE
(indicating drone)
Come with me. Right now. I'll make
sure you get away.
STYLES
Sorry, Lone. But I don't think I
want the company.
He pitches the face-hugger overboard.
Lone darts to the edge of the platform. Stretches out as far as
humanly possible -- then adds another inch. He actually catches the
specimen -- but he's left tottering on the edge, and we think he may
pay for the catch with his life. Then at the last second, Lone grabs a
support bracket. Relief floods his face.
Until the bracket snaps.
Lone plummets.
249 INT. FOUNDRY
The face-hugger hits the main floor and shatters like an exploding
star. HOLD on point of impact. Presently white fluid rains down from
above. VIEW CRANES UP through the supports of the foundry until we
find Lone impaled on a girder. He bleeds the blood of androids.
STATION VOICE
Seven minutes of practical
atmosphere remaining. Repeat. Seven
minutes.
250 INT. FOUNDRY AIRLOCK
Styles enters. Moves to the docked drone ship. Yanks an unlock-lever
to open the hatch...
251 INT. DRONE SHIP
...and step inside. Styles sees a viewscreen. Touches the automated
controls. Then turns to the chair. The one chair.
252 INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE OPERATIONS
Packard reaches Operations. Daggs is waiting.
PACKARD
(fighting for breath,
for sanlty)
Did you, did you, did you see
what --
DAGGS
On the monitors. Seen somethin'
else, too.
253 INT. OPERATIONS
CLOSE on a monitor with an external view of the station. Visible is
the...
DAGGS
Drone ship. Doesn't need a pilot.
It's docked at the foundry.
PACKARD
Styles. He was heading there.
DAGGS
You let him go? Alone?
PACKARD
(moving to E.S.M.)
How do we get there?
S.S. GUARD
Maybe we don't have to. Got air now.
We can just ride it out until --
PACKARD
But if Gateway didn't launch? What
happens then? You want to take that
chance? With those things loose out
there?
DAGGS
Rather rely on Gateway than some
prisoner's sense of fair play. If
Styles does have a ticket outta
here, you think he's gonna hang
around for us?
PACKARD
He said he'd wait.
DAGGS
Lady, I'll give it to you ugly but
honest: He's a con, you're a chump,
and you both deserve blue ribbons.
PACKARD
He'll wait. And it you don't believe
it, don't come. Just show me how to
get there.
Beat. Daggs checks monitors. The corridors look clear.
STATION VOICE
Five minutes of practical atmosphere
remaining. Repeat. Five --
DAGGS
(at voice)
Awright, awright, al-fuckin'-ready!
(to S.S. guard)
Bring the flamer.
254 INT. CORRIDOR
Daggs leading, they run. Nothing fancy here -- just moving flat-out,
old-fashioned, balls-to-the-walls fast. They tear around another
corner...
255 INT. CUL-DE-SAC CORRIDOR
...and pile up, reaching the dead-end.
PACKARD
I thought you knew the way!
Daggs backtracks to orient himself. Collapsed walls, strange lighting.
Everything's different.
STATION VOICE
Four minutes of practical atmosphere
remaining. Repeat. Four minutes.
Packard takes oxygen. She hates this. Hates not moving. Hates being a
standing target for...
The Newbreed lunges from an elevator shaft.
Daggs' stitch rifle, knocked away, drops through a hole in the floor.
Firing reflexively, the S.S. guard ROARS his flame-thrower.
The Newbreed retreats.
Daggs pulls Packard to her feet and runs.
256 INT. CORRIDOR
Packard and Daggs hurdle a rampart of debris. The S.S. guard clears,
then whirls back to torch the rampart. He holds his position, making
sure the fire catches in the thinning atmosphere.
The Newbreed appears -- crawling upside-down on the ceiling to pass
over the curtain of flame.
257 INT. FOUNDRY
Packard and Daggs skid inside, turning back to see...
The S.S. guard coming at full-throttle: Still on the ceiling, the
Newbreed chases him like some nightmarish shadow.
Daggs hammers a button. The overhead door begins dropping.
258 INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE FOUNDRY
The S.S. guard dives head-first...
259 INT. FOUNDRY
And slides to a stop just inside the closing door. He's safe...
Until something grabs his foot and tears him back under.
The DOOR BOOMS closed. Only an arm and the flame-thrower made it.
Daggs grabs the weapon and pushes Packard toward the ladder.
STATION VOICE
Two minutes of practical atmosphere
remaining. Repeat. Two minutes.
Behind them, the door -- two inches of plate steel -- begins
blistering.
260 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING PORT
Breathing like a dying asthmatic, Packard tops the ladder. Makes it to
her feet. Throws her face to the viewport to see...
Pieces of hull tumbling through otherwise empty space. The drone ship
is gone.
PACKARD
(from the marrow of her
soul)
Goddamnit, Styles, I trusted you...
261 INT. FOUNDRY
As the Newbreed breaches the door.
262 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING PORT
DAGGS
Your helmet. Get it on. We can still
go outside the hull.
PACKARD
And where then? Huh? Where then?
Daggs doesn't know where -- that's as far as his mind can take them.
STATION VOICE
Sixty seconds of practical
atmosphere remaining. Repeat. Sixty
seconds.
Now a new noise turns their heads. It sounds almost like...
263 INT. FOUNDRY ELEVATOR SHAFT
An ELEVATOR RISING.
264 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING GATE
DAGGS
Aw, no, no, no...
Flame-thrower is dead. He tries to reprime it. Not enough air.
The elevator climbs.
Daggs bashes off a section of railing. It's a sad excuse for a weapon
-- but he's not going down without a fight.
The ELEVATOR CLANGS to a stop at platform-level. Doors draw open.
STYLES
What took you?
It's him. Stepping off. Breathing from an oxygen tank.
PACKARD
(malleted)
Wha... Where were you?
STYLES
Clearing the elevator. Thought you
might need it.
DAGGS
What we need is a fucking ship.
Where'd it go?
STYLES
(producing R.R.U. box)
Waitin' two clicks out. Had to push
it away so it wouldn't catch this
hull crap.
Styles moves to the viewport, activates the R.R.U. to begin recalling
the drone ship. Packard joins. For one time-stopped moment, she allows
herself to forget all else.
PACKARD
Styles?
STYLES
Packard?
PACKARD
I really thought you left.
STYLES
(with a look)
Never crossed my mind.
He's a lying sonofawhore and Packard starts to say so. But then the
whole platform rocks. Daggs leans over the side to see...
The Newbreed climbing the support structure. This time it's coming for
real.
265 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT
Still a kilometer off, the drone ship maneuvers toward the station.
266 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING PORT
STATION VOICE
Station atmosphere now unviable for
human habitation. Repeat. Station
atmosphere now unviable for human
habitation...
Packard tightens down her helmet, then begins dressing Styles in the
spare suit.
(NOTE: No sound now, unless it's HELMET CROSS-TALK or the deep RUMBLE-
VIBRATIONS we feel in our bones. Other than that, play out the finale
in numbing silence.)
Daggs chances another look over the side -- and keeps looking. Where'd
it go? Suddenly jaws rush upward and snap shut in his face.
Daggs recoils all the way to the viewport, colliding with Styles and
Packard. He screams something they can't hear. He slams his helmet
against Styles'.
DAGGS
Airlock! Do it in the airlock!
267 INT. FOUNDRY AIRLOCK
They bungle in. Minimal gravity here -- they float as much as stand.
As Daggs secures the door, Styles lofts himself to the other end --
the end open to space -- and keeps thumbing the R.R.U. The drone ship
is coming -- but slowly, so goddamn slowly.
268 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING PORT
As the Newbreed crawls over the lip of the platform.
269 INT. FOUNDRY AIRLOCK
Daggs peers back into the foundry. Can't see anything. Stoops to
double-check the lock just as something shatters the window, nearly
decapitating him.
270 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING PORT
The Newbreed sees them. All three. Trapped together in one tight
little space. Frenzied, it begins shredding the airlock door.
271 INT. FOUNDRY AIRLOCK
The door is collapsing. Only seconds before the Newbreed is inside...
272 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT
And the ship is still 200 yards away.
273 INT. FOUNDRY AIRLOCK
Styles shuts down the R.R.U., freezing the ship. Now he grabs Packard
and Daggs, pulling them to the mouth of the airlock, slamming their
three helmets together.
STYLES
Straight shot! Straight!
PACKARD
(realizing)
If we miss, we burn! If we miss --
STYLES
Don't miss.
As one, they grab the rim of the airlock. Rear back. Aim. Then fling
themselves forward...
274 EXT. SPACE
...into naked space.
In an EXTREME LONG SHOT, we watch the three white figures glide across
the blackness, strung together like wriggling paper dolls.
THEIR POV: They approach the ship broadside. Their aim looks good. But
is good good enough?
Styles tries course-corrections. Nothing works.
THEIR POV: Fifty feet...thirty...ten...
They're passing too high. Leading, Styles stretches down and gets a
glove on the hull. But the glove just slides over the curvature,
finding no purchase.
Packard reaches for the ship's antenna. She snags it -- but it breaks
off in her hand.
THEIR POV: Of Earth. Waiting to incinerate them.
Abruptly they jerk to a stop: Daggs got a hand on the needle-nose.
They made the ship.
275 INT. DRONE SHIP
Hatch opens. The three survivors drift-tumble in. Atmosphere and
gravity machines kick in as soon as the hatch is closed. They sink to
the deck.
For moments, we hear only PANTING RESPIRATORS. Then Daggs, hearing a
new sound, turns to look.
Styles is laughing. Laughing in his helmet, laughing like a man who
just scammed Death. Packard finds it infectious -- especially when she
spots the broken antenna still in her grasp.
Daggs stands, leaving them to roll around on deck. And just when their
life-affirming laughter peaks...
DAGGS
Hey. Hey.
He's looking out the hatch porthole.
DAGGS' POV: The space station is dying, listing badly, rocked by
silent explosions. But against that backdrop, something moves toward
us. Just debris?
Styles and Packard crowd in to see.
276 EXT. SPACE
It's the Newbreed, clawing and slashing through space. It's coming
fast. And its aim looks dead-fucking-on.
277 INT. DRONE SHIP
DAGGS
Doesn't it breathe? For Chrissake,
doesn't it need any fuckin' air?
PACKARD
It'll come through the hull. It'll
burn its way right through unless...
Styles is already at the console. Rescanning instruments. Hitting
"MANUAL OVERRIDE": An instrument housing flips up. Among the switches
is a control-stick.
278 EXT. DRONE SHIP
The Newbreed braces for contact.
NEWBREED'S POV: Of the bow of the ship turning...turning...turning...
until the needle-nose points right at VIEW.
Futilely, the Newbreed tries to backpedal in space.
279 INT. DRONE SHIP
Eyes on the viewscreen, Styles brings a fist down on the main-engine
switch.
280 EXT. DRONE SHIP
Thrusters fire.
NEWBREED'S POV: Of the ship lurching at VIEW.
It's a heart-shot: The needle of the ship bores through the Newbreed
Alien, first impaling it, then splitting it open. Pieces of the beast
tumble for different corners of the universe.
SLOW DISSOLVE TO:
281 EXT. SPACE - EARTH DAWN
The drone ship drifts. FOREGROUND, the bow of a huge cutter appears.
RESCUE VOICE
Drone ship, this is ICC Cutter 27,
Marshalls' Division. Do you read?
Over.
DAGGS (V.O.)
Uh, yeah. Block Officer Daggs here.
Over.
RESCUE VOICE
Pulling alongside momentarily,
Officer Daggs. How many survivors
aboard?
DAGGS (V.O.)
Three. Just three of us.
RESCUE VOICE
Identify others, please.
DAGGS (V.O.)
Well, there's Christine Packard, the
station D.P. And then there's
Styles. He's, uh...
A beat. MURMURED VOICES.
RESCUE VOICE
Sorry, didn't copy that.
More MURMURING as a decision is reached -- one not popular with Daggs,
but one he'll try to live with.
DAGGS (V.O.)
Styles. I guess he's just one of the
med-techs.
RESCUE VOICE
Good enough, Officer Daggs. Prepare
for docking.
The cutter powers ahead, moving to intercept. We take it as our cue
to...
FADE OUT
THE END